Tales from the River of Truth
by theoriginalbookthief07
Summary: "This nation was founded on one principle above all else:the requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world—'No, you move.'" During and Post Civil War, seventh in the ChristyVerse.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello to all my readers, both old and new. Welcome to another installment of the ChristyVerse.**

 **To anyone asking, "what the heck is the ChristyVerse," please go and check out my other stories. As stated in the summary, this is seventh in a series, and several things will not make sense if you keep reading. The series begins with "We Can Be Found" and continues on from there.**

 **To all familiar with my 'Verse, welcome to my humble attempt to correct the trainwreck that was Civil War (trainwreck in a GOOD way, mind. For the most part.) Thankfully, I don't have to joss canon as much as I feared I might. However, there are a few things that will have to be different, because of certain choices I've made in this 'Verse. Certain characters have had development and I have to reconcile that development with canon. But I hope to have fun. I'm excited to tackle this tale.**

 **My standard "language" disclaimer: I don't swear, but these characters do. There will be nothing more here than what would be heard in a Marvel movie, and less if I have any say. (I don't like the s-word.)**

 **Also, there are several quotes directly from the movie dialogue used in this chapter, and that will continue as long as I'm working in the movie timeline. Obviously, if you recognize it from the movie, it's not mine, and I freely admit it. I would never try to take credit for the Russo brothers' brilliance.**

 **With all that in mind, sit back, buckle up, and enjoy...**

 **"Tales from the River of Truth"**

* * *

Tales from the River of Truth

PART ONE: CIVIL WAR

Chapter One

It was a beautiful spring day in Scenic Nowhere, Upstate New York. Later, everyone would look back and wonder that everything had seemed so calm. So… _normal_.

Avengers HQ was quiet. Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Natasha were on a mission in Lagos, Nigeria; chasing down the notorious Crossbones, aka Brock Rumlow, ex-HYDRA goon.

Bucky had taken Christy off on an impromptu visit to Clint's place, so that left Rhodey, Pietro, and Vision to their own devices.

Unfortunately, that wasn't playing out as well as it could.

"I am so _bored_." Pietro mumbled, thunking his head over the back of the Common Area couch.

Vision, sitting across from him and occupied with a book (because even though he had instant access to all knowledge, he still enjoyed doing some things like humans), raised his eyebrow. "Mr. Barnes did offer to take you along with him…"

"That's politeness lingo for, 'so it's your own fault if you're bored'." Rhodey added, looking up from his tablet. "Besides, they'll all be back soon enough."

Pietro heaved a long sigh and deigned to respond. He had nothing against Vision or Rhodey, but they weren't exactly the people he was the closest to. Wanda, on the other hand…

He shuddered lightly and brushed the thought from his mind. No sense in borrowing trouble. And if his sister did turn out to have some sort of feelings for the Android…

Well, it could be worse. At least Vizh was a gentleman.

Suffice to say, being stuck in a base—even a base as nice as theirs— with Vision and Rhodey was not his ideal way to spend a weekend.

 _I should have gone with Bucky and Christy…_

He couldn't even communicate with Wanda right now. Their mind link was always muted during a battle; not completely cut off, but as though a locked door stood between their communication pathway.

Suddenly, Rhodey stiffened on the couch. He threw his tablet down and moved to turn on the TV.

"Something wrong?" Vision asked. "Is one of ours in trouble?"

Rhodey just shook his head and flicked the 'on' switch. "Either she's in trouble, or she's gonna be."

"She?!" Pietro cried, bolting upright.

Rhodey turned the TV to a news station. The captions read: "Breaking News: Disaster in Lagos," in big, fire-red letters.

The three watched in horror as the story was pieced together bit by bit. The reporters seemed to be most upset over Wanda crashing Rumlow through the hospital building.

"She didn't…she didn't mean it…" Pietro whispered brokenly. _"Wanda, speak to me. Tell me what happened! I need to hear you!"_

Vision looked deeply troubled. "I don't believe anyone is truly caring what her motives were at this point, Pietro."

"Damn straight, they're not." Rhodey muttered, sighing heavily. "This is gonna be a mess."

"But the man, Rumlow, he blew himself up!" Pietro insisted. "That would have caused problems no matter what. She was trying to get him away from people! Where else was she supposed to put him?"

"Well it mighta been helpful if it wasn't _through a building_!" Rhodey snapped.

"You don't always think clearly in a battle! It's hard!"

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Please!" Vision cried, putting himself between the two men. "This is not going to help anything or anyone. They should be in-route here, and will arrive soon enough. It will be better to get the story straight from them. Us bickering won't take back what happened."

Rhodey sighed again, and took a step back. Pietro gave a short, sharp nod, and turned out of the room.

 _"_ _Wanda, talk to me!"_ he tried again, as he walked into his room. _"Please!"_

Finally, blessedly, he felt the mental 'door' swing open. _"I'm here, Pietro…"_

Pietro winced aloud. Even mentally, Wanda sounded worn to the bone. _"I saw the news,_ _ **sestra**_ _."_

He could sense her emotions swirling, raw and volatile. _"I did it again,_ _ **brat**_ _. It's all my fault…people are dead because of me, again."_

 _"_ _And how many people are alive because you stopped that man?"_ Pietro argued back.

 _"_ _They will not see it that way…"_ She sounded so exhausted.

 _"_ _Go to sleep,_ _ **sestrica**_ _."_ Pietro sent. _"Are you on a plane?"_

 _"_ _Yes…"_

 _"_ _Then sleep. Rest. Dream of home, and then you will wake up and see my face. I love you…"_

He could feel her mind pulse, in a way that meant she was crying. His whole being ached.

 _"_ _I love you…"_ he tried again. This time, he got a faint reply.

 _"_ _Love you,_ _ **brat**_ _…"_

* * *

Due to the time shift and turbo-fast technology, everyone was back within a few hours. They all stumbled out of the 'jet, tired and looking for a shower.

Wanda practically collapsed into Pietro's arms as soon as she was on the ground. He caught Steve's eye.

"Don't believe a word she says." Steve insisted. "It was all on me."

"It was all on _Rumlow_." Sam argued fiercely. "He's the one who had to go and blow himself up. We're not responsible for criminals behaving badly."

"But I crashed…" Wanda started. Pietro shook his head and rocked her back and forth.

"Shh, shh; _prestani, sestra_." he whispered.

"So...where's my kid?" Steve asked, justifiably. Christy would have usually surfaced by this point, flinging herself at Steve like a projectile.

"Bucky took her to the Old Man's place." Pietro explained.

Steve nodded. "Probably just as well. I'll text him later, tell him to stay the night if they can. We're probably gonna have to see someone about all this."

Later, after they had all showered and eaten something, Wanda sat in her room watching the news broadcast. She had insisted on being alone, and although Pietro had clearly been reluctant to leave her in that state, he'd respected her wishes.

 _"_ _What right does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have…?"_ The TV blared.

 _To what, exist?_ Wanda thought bitterly. _All I wanted was to see justice done. And now the world hates me._

The TV suddenly switched off. Wanda spun around to find that Steve had entered the room.

"It wasn't your fault." he said quietly.

"No, please, turn it back on." Wanda said. "They're being very specific." _And more brutally honest than you._

Steve sat down next to her on the bed. "I should've clocked that bomb long before you had to deal with it. It's just…Rumlow said 'Bucky,' and...all of a sudden I was a sixteen year old kid again in Brooklyn. I forgot everything…even that he's safe now." He paused, and said thickly, "People died. It's on me."

"It's on both of us." Wanda said quietly.

Shaking his head, Steve replied, "Look...with this job...we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time...maybe nobody gets saved."

Wanda stared down at her hands. She knew he was right. Steve, maybe more than any of them, had experience with the sacrifices that had to be made in combat.

But still…

Vision materialized through the wall without warning, wearing neat slacks and an argyle sweater.

For a moment, Wanda's all-consuming guilt was swept to the side by mild shock and fond exasperation. "Vizh, we talked about this!"

The android looked embarrassed. "Ah, yes, but…the door was open, so I assumed…"

Wanda groaned mentally and made a note to be more specific next time—her exact words _had_ been, "don't come into my room without knocking unless the door is open," after a certain incident in which she hadn't been…fully decent.

Recovering some of his dignity, Vision went on. "Captain Rogers wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."

Steve nodded. "Thank you. Be right down." He stood up and headed for the door. Wanda followed in his wake.

"I'll...use the door." Vision said. Louder, he added, "Oh, and apparently he's he's brought at guest."

Steve looked puzzled and slightly alarmed. "You know who it is?"

"The Secretary of State."

* * *

"Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I have found something forty years in the army had never taught me... perspective."

 _"_ _Is this man here for anything specific, or is he just going to keep talking? Because then I am leaving!"_ Pietro sent to Wanda.

 _"_ _Hush!"_ Wanda sent back.

They were all seated around the base's biggest conference table: Steve, Sam, Rhodey, Wanda, Natasha, Pietro, and Vision. Tony sat in a chair a short distance back. Steve was thanking his lucky stars that he'd texted Bucky not to come back until tomorrow. Natasha was thinking the same way regarding the fact that Bruce was currently in Seoul with Helen Cho, working on some project. She'd nearly lost her cool when Tony had walked in with General Ross.

 _"_ _How could you?"_ she'd hissed. _"You know Bruce's story as well as I do! How could you cozy up to this guy?"_

Tony had just looked at her with dazed eyes. _"Bruce isn't here, right? Besides…it's for the best."_

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives. But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word 'vigilantes'."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" she asked coolly.

"How about 'dangerous'? What would you call a group of US based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned with what they leave behind?"

Steve breathed out slowly. _Oh, yeah, I called for search and rescue and paramedics earlier because I was_ _ **so**_ _unconcerned with what we left behind. And it's not like Tony has an entire_ _ **relief fund**_ _for cryin' out loud! Not to mention all that airlifting we did in Sokovia! Where were the governments of the world then?!_

But he could sense that his arguments, however sound, would be brushed aside by the Secretary. Steve knew his type.

Ross had a screen drawn up that showed the sites of various catastrophes that the Avengers had been involved with over the past four years. He pointed to each in turn. "New York. Washington D.C. Sokovia. Lagos."

 _"_ _Where's Harlem?"_ Natasha wanted to ask. Badly. But she held her tongue.

Wanda shuddered at the footage from Lagos. Pietro looked ready to spring on General Ross in a cloud of righteous fury, so Steve quickly said, "Okay. That's enough."

The man nodded. "In the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But we've come up with a solution." He placed a large, thick, book-like document on the table.

"The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

It was as if a bomb had been let off in the room.

Sam tossed Steve a look. The blonde's face was solemn, but his eyes held a hint of anger. He'd trusted an organization before, and look how well _that_ had turned out. Frankly, Sam felt like he was in the same boat. Add that to the fact that they had never even been _consulted_ about _any_ of this…

"Forgive me if I don't understand…" came a slow, Slavic-accented drawl.

 _"_ _So help me, I will murder you, Pietro!"_

Pietro ignored Wanda's mental voice. He was not going to let this man, Secretary of State or no, sit here and make his "family" look like terrible people.

"You see, I am a bit confused." he pointed at the screen. "You say, New York, Washington D.C., Sokovia; that we are unconcerned with what we leave behind. But…that makes it sound as though it was the Avengers' desire to make chaos. New York was an attack by _aliens_. And D.C…the hellicariers that got destroyed saved thousands from dying." He stared the General down. "Perhaps your name was one on that list of targets, Mr. Secretary."

"Young man, that is quite enough!" the Secretary thundered. But Pietro wasn't finished.

"And Sokovia…" his eyes burned. "I was there. _My_ country. And it was not the United Nations that airlifted my people to safety…it was the Avengers. SHIELD." He gestured around the table. "Them…them I trust. You, and your 'council'…forgive me if I am a bit wary."

Ross nodded slowly. "You make your point. But, unfortunately, this is what will be for the greater good. We will not have another Ultron. Or Lagos. That is what these Accords are attempting to prevent. Trust me, this is the middle ground." He turned to leave. "Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna, to ratify the Accords. Talk it over."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha dared to ask,

"Then you retire." Ross said bluntly.

Natasha gave a small, tight smile.

 _"_ _Retire" he says. As if. He's got us cornered and he knows it…_

* * *

Thirty minutes had gone by since the Secretary's departure, and the tension had only gotten worse.

"117 countries wanna sign this." Rhodey was saying to Sam. "117, Sam, and you're just like, 'Nah, it's cool.'"

"How long are you gonna play both sides?" Sam cried.

"I have an equation." Vision said, like a child with a new discovery.

"Oh, this'll clear it up." Sam muttered sarcastically.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, a number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurable rate."

Nobody could really argue with that logic.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asked.

"I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight...oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Boom!" Rhodey said triumphantly.

"It's not oversight that bugs me, it's the fact that the government has a very bad track record of _being_ that oversight!" Steve said in exasperation.

Tony was sitting flopped on the couch, his hand pressed over his face.

"Tony…" Natasha said. "You're being uncharacteristically hyper-nonverbal."

"That's cause he's already made up his mind." Steve snarked, feeling slightly betrayed. Tony had come marching in here with the Secretary like a good, dutiful "parent" come to clean up a child's mess. And Steve didn't enjoy being made to feel like a naughty child.

 _And since when is Tony Stark on the side of government control?_

It was soon clear why.

Tony flashed up a picture and told the story of a young man, one who had apparently died in Sokovia. These days, it always came back to Sokovia.

"We need to be put in check!" he cried. "And whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limits, we're boundryless, we're no better than the bad guys."

"'We' need to be put in check? We didn't make Ultron."

Tony shot Pietro a glare so fast, Steve was half afraid it was about to get physical.

"Look, kid, you're lucky you didn't get arrested, mouthing off to the Secretary like that."

"Arrested?!" Pietro went purple with rage. "Oh, I'm sorry! I thought this was America! But apparently, I'm back in the old Soviet days _mama_ and _tata_ told me about, where you got arrested for telling the truth!"

"Pietro, can it!" Steve said, authority oozing from his voice like honey. He gave the younger man a _look_. "That was uncalled for." he added, with quiet reproach.

Tony didn't need to be reminded of Ultron by anyone. He did too good a job of reminding himself.

The arguing continued on for another few minutes. It seemed increasingly impossible for any sort of agreement to be reached.

And then, Steve's phone beeped.

He looked down. The text sent a shockwave through his body.

 _She's gone. She passed in her sleep._

And suddenly, his whole world went gray.

He stood up in a quick movement. "I have to go." Rushing out of the room, he barely made it to the stairwell before he collapsed.

 _She's gone…_ Was all he could think. _Gone...gone...gone..._

* * *

"I think it should work now." Bucky said, giving the beat-up riding mower a light push.

Clint nodded assent. "It better. I got it cheap, but I was hoping to get a few more years outta this thing."

In his quest to find things he was good at that didn't involve killing, Bucky had re-discovered that he wasn't half bad with mechanics…and actually enjoyed tinkering around with odd metal things (like his arm). Hence, the reason he and Clint were out in the barn, trying to resurrect the old mower.

His phone pulsed in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out. It was a text from Sam.

 _Peggy Carter passed. You need to get back to base stat. Bring the kid._

"Aww… _damn_." Bucky hissed. _Steve's gonna be a wreck…_

"What's up?" Clint asked. Bucky passed him the phone in silence.

Clint shook his head. "Steve…he's gonna be a mess, and tryin' to act like he's not. You'd better get on the road."

Bucky nodded and made to head out of the barn, when Clint's phone started chirping the familiar Skype ring.

"It's Tasha…" Clint muttered absently. Both men huddled by the phone.

"Wilson text you?" was the first thing she asked, looking straight at Bucky. He nodded.

"Good." She let out a deep sigh. "Well, everything's gone to hell around here. I'll try to fill you in before you come home to chaos."

"What happened?" Clint asked, concerned. Natasha sounded very, very stressed. "How was Lagos?"

Natasha gave a thin smile. "Wanda crashed Rumlow through a building…"

* * *

The car ride back to the base was near-silent. Christy had a pensive look on her face. Bucky had tried to explain what was going on as best he could.

"Why do they wanna ruin everything _now_?" she asked finally.

"Who?"

"The _government people_!" Christy exclaimed petulantly. "They didn't do anything for three years of crazy, and now this!"

Bucky sighed. "They're not trying to ruin anything, doll. From what Tasha told me, it honestly sounds like they're trying to help."

Still, that knowledge didn't endear him to the Accords. It sounded like a trap, to him. He didn't want to sign away his life to anyone's control ever again.

 _"_ _This was a lot easier when SHIELD was still a thing."_ Clint had said. And it was true. It had apparently finally reached the collective powers-that-be's attention that there was no SHIELD, no World Security Council, no nobody. Just Tony Stark's funding and Steve Rogers' leadership.

And that evidently wasn't good enough.

They reached the base and went inside. Everyone had more-or-less scattered, but Natasha was in the Common Area.

"He's in his room." she said. "Sam's with him."

"Thanks." Bucky tossed back. Without another word, he and Christy strode into the bedroom.

Steve looked up at them, his face splotched and red, eyes bloodshot. "Hey…" he said weakly, trying to smile at Christy.

Christy plunged next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't try, Dad. I know you're not happy."

Steve's face screwed up. Christy tightened her hug and started to sing a wordless tune under her breath.

Bucky shot Sam a grateful look. Sam nodded back, and then turned to the pair on the bed.

"Hey, mini-Cap, wanna make some hot chocolate?" he asked quietly.

Christy nodded. Hot chocolate was their signature "everything is terrible" drink, reserved for nightmares and all-around bad days.

"I'll make you hot chocolate Dad." she said, squeezing him once more. "And then we'll do whatever you want."

Steve gave a soft, choking sob. "I…I wanna hear what you did while I was gone."

"Okay. I'll tell you. But first, I'll let you talk to Uncle Bucky."

Sam gave her a "well done, you caught on" smile, as they left the room.

Bucky sank down on the bed. "What's goin' on in that head o' yours, Stevie?"

Steve shook his head. "I knew she was going." he whispered thickly. "And I knew…when I woke up that, there was no chance…nothing, I mean, she was over ninety, Buck." He faced his friend, raw pain in his eyes. "So why does it hurt so _bad_?"

Bucky sighed. "Because it was _real_ , pal. 'Cause she was your friend and more, and not just another pretty face. 'Cause you loved her!"

Steve flopped back on the bed and buried his face in the pillows, his body shaking. Bucky kept his hand on Steve's back.

"That's it…" he muttered. "Go 'head and cry. Let it outta ya, Stevie. You always bottle everything up, stupid punk. You don't have to be strong this time. I got ya. Go ahead and be weak…you got a whole team to give you strength. And you got me."

Steely resolve tightened in his chest.

"You'll always have me."

Accords or no Accords…he would stay with Steve. 'Till the end of the line, back, and back again.

* * *

 **Dun-dun-dun! Tune in next time for everything going even more wrong! (And canon divergence!)  
**

 **Sestra/Sestrica- sister/little sister**

 **Brat- brother**

 **Prestani- be quiet**

 **Mama and Tata- mom and dad**

 **Hope you enjoyed. In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...and, for the record, I know the site is being buggy with reviews, so if you were going to hold off leaving one, DON'T. I mean, I can't tell you what to do, but know that I don't care. I'm saving all the review emails until the site gets back to normal. I just want feedback!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all, I'm back! Told you I'd be posting quicker now that school's ended for the semester! Now, onto the chapter with !MovieCanonDivergence and !AngstandFeelsGalore and !EverythingGoingWrong**

 **(Literally, Civil War should have either been called "No Conversations: the Movie" or "Everything Goes Wrong: the Movie")**

 **I have to credit OrderoftheAether for her inspiration and help with Ross' dialogue below. It came out of a late-night PM where we were discussing how to mesh canon with ChristyVerse. Thanks, Order!**

 **Anyway, on with the chapter! Enjoy!**

 **Bonus points if you can spot the covert Lord of the Rings line usage...**

* * *

Chapter Two

Ever since taking up the mantle of Captain America, Steve had shouldered many burdens: physical, mental, and emotional. He would willingly testify that the emotional burdens always outclassed the physical ones.

Sometimes, though, the categories overlapped. Like this morning.

Peggy Carter's funeral was being held in a gorgeous old church: wooden pews, stained glass, an organ— the whole nine yards. A children's choir was softly singing, and Steve shouldered what felt like the heaviest burden of his life.

Physically, he was more than capable of carrying his share of the large wooden coffin. But his emotional and mental state was taking its toll. Practically the only thing that kept him upright was the knowledge that Bucky and Sam were waiting for him in the front pew.

Not Christy, though. There was too much going on, what with the Accords and everything else. He didn't want her out of the country, though her presence would have given him comfort. But right now, she was safe and sound, back at the base. Last he'd known, Vision, Natasha, and the twins were still there. He'd simply told them all that, should they decide to sign the Accords, Christy was to stay with the Bartons, but there was no sense moving her around unless they were absolutely not going to be in-country.

(Besides, something told him that wild horses couldn't make Pietro sign those Accords. And where Pietro went, his twin was bound to follow.)

He managed to carry the coffin up to the front of the church, and staggered to his seat between Bucky and Sam like a dead man. His chest felt like a giant, throbbing ball of pain.

He was so out of it, he barely heard the archbishop say, "And now, I would like to invite Sharon Carter to say a few words." And even then, he _really_ didn't notice the woman until Sam gave him a gentle nudge. Upon looking up in sulky stare, he almost gasped.

It was _her_. The "friendly neighbor" from D.C. who'd turned out to be a SHIELD agent and was now working for the CIA last he knew. A weird mixture of pleasure, shock, and annoyance worked its way through him.

 _Wait, did the archbishop say Sharon_ _ **Carter**_ _?_

"Margaret Carter was known by most as the founder of SHIELD." the woman began. "But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy."

Steve felt like someone had set a firework off in his brain.

 _Why didn't you say anything?_ He pleaded mentally.

"She had a photograph in her office," Sharon continued. "Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to, which is why I never told anyone we were related."

She was looking straight at him, so clearly she had caught some of his expression.

Bucky leaned over. "Was this the girl you told me about…the one next door?"

Steve nodded, in answer to Bucky's question, and in acquiescence of Sharon's covert explanation.

"I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, 'Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No, _you_ move'.'"

 _Like a tree beside the river of truth…_ Steve filled in mentally. Peggy had said something similar to him once.

 _Even if the whole world says that something wrong is something right…or even that something not quite good is something right…you have to take a stand._

 _Plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world, "No, you move."_

Steve let out a brief sigh. Even beyond the grave, Peggy was still helping him make sense of this crazy new world.

 _I can't compromise, Peg. Not this time. I think you'd understand. I just…can't._

* * *

After the funeral, Steve spent a few moments by himself in the empty church. Bucky and Sam had discreetly gone back to the hotel, giving him some privacy.

"Hey…" a voice said quietly. It was Natasha.

Steve glanced up at his friend. "Whatever you do, don't say you're sorry for my loss."

Natasha gave a pained smile. "Since when do I use clichés? That's Tony's style." She looked around. "Where's your entourage?" she asked gently.

That made Steve smile a bit. "They went back to the hotel. Thought they'd give me some time alone." He frowned. "Where are you headed?"

Natasha sighed. "I'm off to Vienna, for the signing of the accords."

"Who else signed?" Steve wanted to know.

"Tony, Rhodey...Vision."

The list was a good deal smaller than Steve had been expecting.

"Bruce?"

Natasha shook her head. "We talked. He says he's staying on the down-low until this whole thing gets less…ugly. And I don't blame him for not wanting to sign."

"The twins?"

Natasha smirked. "TBD, but if you ask me, it's not happening. I think Pietro made his point pretty eloquently. So Christy's with them at the base. If they change their minds, I told them to call you and drop her at Clint's."

"What about Clint?"

"Says he's 'retired'." The sly look on Natasha's face told how little credence she gave that statement.

Steve sighed. It seemed the Avengers were split right down the middle. He knew Bucky and Sam would never sign unless he did.

"There's still plenty of room on the jet." Natasha said encouragingly. "If you go, they'll all go, you know it. We need to stay together…frankly, we're all the family we've got. Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's wrong."

Steve knew that. He knew it very well. Stubbornness wasn't always a friend.

And he knew that Natasha's words would sound like wisdom, but for the warning in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Nat." he said quietly. "I can't sign it."

Natasha nodded. "I know."

Steve looked confused. "Then why did you come here?"

In answer, Natasha took a step closer.

"Because I didn't want you to be alone."

She wrapped her arms around him, and they stayed like that for several minutes. When they finally broke apart, both their eyes were wet.

"Hey, I saw Sharon out in the front." Natasha said. "She looked like she was going to be there for a bit. Why don't you go say hello?"

Steve groaned. "Still obsessed with my love life, Romanoff?"

Natasha grinned. "Always." _Because you deserve some happiness in this screwed up world, Steve Rogers. You deserve as much happiness as you can grab…_

* * *

Sharon sighed a bit as none other than Steve Rogers walked up to her in the church entryway. She definitely had some explaining to do. He had looked like a kicked puppy after she'd announced she was Peggy Carter's niece.

"So…you want that cup of coffee now?" he asked, glancing down bashfully.

Sharon gave him an embarrassed smile of her own. "How about we trade? A…a cup of coffee for an explanation. And maybe an apology. I think I'm a bit overdue for both, and…you deserve them."

Steve gave a small, genuine smile. "I'd like that. Where are you staying?"

When Sharon named her hotel, his smile got even bigger. "I'm staying there, too." he held out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion. "I think the hotel lobby has coffee. Want an escort?"

Sharon reached out and took the offered hand. "Yeah…that'd be nice."

The first few minutes of walking were near silent, until she finally broke it. "Well, to start with the biggest elephant in the room…I really am sorry I couldn't tell you I was working for SHIELD. And I wasn't…wasn't trying to…"

"Spy on me?" Steve finished. There was no reproof in his voice, only understanding. "Yeah you were. But it was your job. I get it."

Sharon sighed. "Fury wanted tabs on you the same way he kept tabs on everybody, and that's the attitude I went into it with. But you were so nice…"

"I've been told it's one of my better qualities." Steve volleyed back.

"I felt really terrible about it, but there was no good way to let you know. And then that night…"

"There was no time." Steve nodded. "I know. Like I said, I get it. Apology accepted." He glanced at her curiously. "If you don't mind my asking…?"

"Yes?"

"What do you…?" he stopped.

He wanted to ask her what she remembered of Peggy. Badly. But that wasn't fair to her, or to him, in all honesty.

It wasn't honoring or kind to Sharon to treat her like an extension of Peggy. If he was going to take Natasha's advice and go after this girl, he had to do it for _her_ , not because of who she was related to.

After all, he understood the pain that came for being seen as something other than yourself. Captain America was not Steve Rogers.

"Tell me about how you got mixed up with SHIELD." he said. "I wanna know everything."

Sharon looked pleased and surprised. Slowly, she started to unpack her life, starting with tales of a quiet but fierce child who was practically weaned on her great-aunt's war stories. By the time they'd gotten back to the hotel and gotten coffee, Steve was fully engrossed.

"Yeah, my mom didn't want me to join up, but Aunt Peggy...she got me my first thigh holster."

Steve grinned. _I bet she did._ "Very practical."

Sharon laughed a bit. "And stylish."

They made their way over to the elevator.

"Thanks for walking me back." Sharon said.

"No problem. So, the CIA have you stationed here now?"

"In Berlin. Joint Terrorism Task Force."

"Right, right. Sounds fun."

"I know, right?"

Steve glanced down. "I've been meaning to ask you...when you were...spying on me from across the hall..."

"You mean when I was _doing my job_?" Sharon argued teasingly

"Did Peggy know?"

Sharon breathed out a sigh. "She kept so many secrets…I didn't want her to have one from you."

Steve nodded, grateful. They were just about to get in the elevator when Sam suddenly materialized behind them.

"Steve…there's something you've gotta see."

* * *

"But I didn't do it!" Bucky cried, half exasperated, half terrified.

The four of them were huddled in the boys' hotel room. Sharon was on the phone with her boss and the TV blared in the background.

"Well, _obviously_." Sam muttered.

There had been a bombing at the UN Headquarters in Vienna, where the Accords were being signed. Ten people, including the Wakandan King T'Chaka, who'd pushed for the Accords, had been killed. Many were injured. Video footage had been caught of the perpetrator.

And the perpetrator, according to the news, was none other than one James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve took a deep breath and tried to still his shaking hands. He'd already called the twins; they hadn't gone to Vienna. They were still at the base with Christy. Vision was already back as well. Tony and Rhodey were also apparently fine. That just left Nat to call…

Sharon got off the phone. "Okay…" she said slowly. "Let's try to think about this logically."

"I didn't do it." Bucky said, feeling like a broken record.

"That's a given." Sharon said kindly, still trying to come to grips with the fact that the _Winter Soldier_ was two feet away from her. Steve had sputtered out a hasty explanation about his recovery process, and Sharon was prepared to take him at his word. Besides, this man very little resembled the fierce figure that had "killed" Nick Fury.

Still…

"Okay." Sam said. "I know that Bucky didn't do it. I've been with him all day. You two know he didn't do it. That's us three against…"

"The word of security cameras and eyewitness testimony and government officials everywhere." Steve said bitterly. "We don't stand a chance of being believed."

"So whoever this guy is, he probably has access to facial technology, some kind of mask." Sharon said. "He's familiar enough with HYDRA to frame the Winter Soldier… _ex_ -Winter Soldier."

"We're dealing with someone on a mission." Steve said flatly. "And until we know what his mission is…" he looked at Bucky. "What are you thinking? I'm pretty sure Bruce has room wherever he's holed up."

Sharon decided to pretend she hadn't heard that one.

 _Never mind that I know ten people who'd love to get their hands on Bruce Banner…what he does is his business._

Fear battled with another unnamed emotion in Bucky's eyes. Finally, the emotion bloomed into full-fledged anger.

"No." he said. "I'm tired of this. I'm no criminal—not now, anyway. I'm done hiding. This is ridiculous. I wanna run…everything in me is saying run. I think I even know a safe house in Romania I could crash at. But it wouldn't do any good. I didn't bomb the Headquarters. I'm not running."

"You're gonna turn yourself in?" Sam asked, since Steve seemed incapable of speech for the moment.

Bucky cast his eyes around. "Whaddaya think?"

"They won't be happy that you've apparently been hiding out under their noses for the past, what, two years?" Sharon said bluntly.

Bucky shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not too trusting of authority. But I'm not gonna be framed for a crime I didn't commit. I've got enough trouble with the ones I _did_ commit."

"Buck…they might lock you up for good." Steve pleaded. "Don't do this. They won't understand…"

"Steve…" Bucky sighed. "I know. But if I run away…how far can I run? And anyway, I don't really wanna. If I turn myself in, then they can get busy looking for the guy that actually did this."

Steve felt torn. He knew that Bucky was right. But everything in his entire being rebelled against letting his friend walk into the den of lions that surely awaited them in Berlin.

"What about…" he stopped short. That was an explanation _he_ owed _Sharon_.

Luckily, Bucky caught on. "I'm doing this _for_ her. How do you think it's gonna look if she turns on the TV and sees that I apparently bombed the UN, and then she finds out that I cut and run? Nuh-uh, pal. Nice try; bad argument."

Steve looked at Sharon. "Is there someone you can…call? I don't wanna cause a scene."

Sharon nodded. "I can call in a security escort. If you're sure…" she looked at Bucky. "This won't be easy."

Bucky gave her a flashing smile that couldn't quite mask his fear. "Doll, that could be the title of my autobiography."

* * *

One day later, Steve sat squished in a police car with Sam and apparently the prince (now king) of Wakanda, and decided that Bucky's autobiography title should apply to all three of them.

"So you like cats?" Sam asked their companion, sounding extremely fed-up with life in general.

" _Sam_." Steve said, exasperated.

"What?" his friend shot back petulantly. "Dude shows up dressed as a cat, and you don't wanna know more?"

Steve did want to know more. He'd wanted to know more ever since the mysterious black-clad man had met them upon arrival in Germany.

He'd cornered them just as Bucky was about to be escorted to UN Headquarters, and all hell had broken loose. Instinct had taken over for Bucky, and for Steve and Sam. It had turned into a real brawl, though probably not as bad as things could have gone.

And now, Captain America, the paragon of virtue and justice, had gotten himself arrested.

 _Christy…please know that I have a very good explanation for all of this…_

He was more grateful than ever that his daughter was still stateside.

"Your suit." he said to the man, trying to make conversation. "It's Vibranium?"

The prince turned back to look at them. "The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations." he said, his voice a slow, melodious cadence. "A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

"Okay, first of all, he did not murder your father." Sam said. "He was with us when the bombing happened, so you can cut with your Inigo Montoya shtick…"

"Sam!" Steve said. Being insulting wasn't going to help their cause. "It's true." he added lightly.

The prince's eyes turned stormy. "And _why_ should I believe _you_? He is your friend, after all. You would want to protect him."

Steve sighed. Clearly, he wasn't going to make any headway with T'Challa.

"Yeah, I would." he admitted quietly. "But he didn't do it."

* * *

Bucky sighed. If he shut his eyes, he could pretend he was wrapped in blankets, and not strapped down by heavy leather and machinery.

He could still hear the earlier conversation ringing in his ears. Everett K. Ross, head of the Joint Counter-Terrorism Center, had not been best pleased about his turning up…or, as Sharon had said, that he'd been hiding under their noses for the past two years.

 _"_ _Yes, alright, he has an alibi for the_ _ **bombing**_ _,"_ he'd exclaimed. " _But does nobody care that the good Captain has been offering asylum to a terrorist with a seventy-year kill streak? I don't know what paperwork could possibly have been involved in getting permission to do_ _ **that**_ _, but Mr. Rogers clearly didn't fill out anything of the sort."_

Steve had looked two seconds away from saying, _"Because I knew something like_ _ **this**_ _would happen!"_ He'd nearly thrown a fit when he'd seen Bucky fitted into the contraption he was currently strapped into.

 _"_ _Has no one brought this dangerous criminal in for any sort of punishment? Well, I guess we'll have to take care of it. Besides, that's certainly his face on the camera! Maybe this one is a fake with a silicone face and the real Barnes is out there!"_

The man had at that point actually attempted to _grab his face_ , to see if it was a mask. Bucky had just fixed him with his best 'can you believe this guy?' face, while Sam had taken up glaring to kingdom come and Steve had shouted a protest. Those three factors combined had made Ross finally stand down.

 _"_ _Oh, no, that's his real face. Never mind. Well, maybe he can give us some information on whoever suddenly also has his face."_

And at that, he'd been bundled off to an...evaluation. Interrogation.

One and the same, honestly. These people probably didn't care two cents about helping him mentally.

He settled back in the chair and tried not to pull at the straps. He was alone.

Finally, a youngish-looking man appeared on the other side of the glass. He sat down and set some papers on the table in front of him.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes. I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you."

Bucky just _stared_.

"You're first name is James, yes?" he asked calmly.

 _I want Sam._ Bucky thought, almost childishly. He remembered how Sam had coaxed him into recovery, after D.C. He'd been calm, too, but not overly professional. Plus, he hadn't been strapped into whatever this stupid thing was in a cold, chill, antiseptic-feeling room. He'd been in Steve's apartment, safe and free and…

He choked back a moan.

 _You made your choice, Barnes. Time to face the music._

"I'm not here to judge you...I'm just here to ask you a few questions."

 _I've got some...starting with "why am I in this damn restraining chair?"_

"Do you know where you are, James?"

 _Not where I wanna be._

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky." he growled out. He hoped Steve was watching.

 _Only Thor can call me James. And he asked. Boy,_ _ **he'd**_ _be useful right about now._

The man started back at the sudden vehemence. "Tell me Bucky." he said finally, "You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Bucky muttered sulkily.

 _Where'd they find this clown?_

"You fear that...if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop." the man went on.

There was a long pause.

"Don't worry…we only have to talk about one."

That alone sent off red flags in Bucky's head.

And then, the lights went dark.

"What the hell is this?" he said, _really_ not in the mood for any tricks.

The man ignored him. "Let's discuss your home. Not Romania, certainly not Brooklyn, no. I mean Siberia."

Bucky's heart started pounding furiously.

 ** _Siberia_** _, what about Siberia, how does he know about Siberia, what's going on, where's Steve, where's Sam, why did I think this was a good idea…_

The man slowly reached down and picked up a red book with a silver star.

Bucky's eyes widened.

 _Oh God, oh God, oh God, I know that book, I have to get out of here, why does he have that…_

"Z _helaniye_ … _prorzhavevshiy…_ _semnadtsat'…_ _rassvyet_."

"Please…stop..." Bucky moaned. He knew those words. He knew what they were for.

But the man kept reading.

 _I have to get out of here!_

" _Pech'…devyat'…dobrokachestvennaya…_ "

Bucky started to punch his way out of the contraption. He managed to break through the glass.

" _Vozvrashcheniye_ _na rodinu …odin._ "

He could feel…something slipping over his mind, almost like water washing away everything that was good and true…

 _No!_

" _Gruzovoy vagon._ "

The word hit with all the mental force of a sledgehammer. He was fighting, fighting…what was he fighting? What was…?

What was his mission?

" _Soldat_?" the man in front of him queried.

The Soldier stood still, like always. " _Ya_ _gotovo soblyudat_."

The man stepped forward, a ghastly smile on his face.

"Mission report. December 16, 1991."

The Soldier punched the man in the face.

At the back of his head, there was screaming-a man's scream of fear and horror. But also another scream.

That of a child. Almost as though the child was trying to warn him of something evil.

He pushed the thought away.

* * *

 **Gah! Anyone who's read "Never Meant for You to Fix Yourself" will understand how heartbreaking that was for me to write! Fortunately, he'll get his head back next chapter.  
**

 **I went back and forth between having Bucky cut and run or turn himself in, but at the end of the day, I feel like turning himself in fits better with Bucky's character growth in this 'Verse, as opposed to in the MCU. Here, he's had recovery time and he has an alibi. Plus, it has the added side benefit of making the government people even less sympathetic. Criminal or no, Bucky's basically a POW who's been MIA for over seven decades, and now he's willingly turned himself in. Not vetting a psychiatrist and leaving him alone with said psychiatrist...not a good idea. I don't care if Zemo had the murdered doctors papers, did no one take a look at his face? Ugh! And Steve & company totally would have had lawyers. Stupid Ross. Both Rosses. Seriously, both the annoying government men in this movie were named Ross. Way to ruin a last name...**

 **The Russian was Bucky's trigger words, "soldier," and "ready to comply". (The most heartbreaking sentence EVER!)**

 **Next chapter will be soon. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, all; back again! I'm trying to wring out these movie-related chapters as quick as I can, while the details of Civil War are still fresh in my head. I'm going to see it again Tuesday with a friend, so that should help. (Yes, this marks a grand total of THREE times I will have seen Civil War. I'm unofficially trying to top the number of times I saw The Avengers in theaters when it came out, which was 4 or 5. Right now, it looks like I will win that bet with myself.)**

 **Now, on with the chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Three

In the movies, people always woke up from nightmares by siting straight up in bed, gasping for air like marathon runners.

Maybe some people really did wake up like that. But Christy was not one of those people.

Instead, her heart gave a sudden jerk and a painful, tingly consciousness settled over her body. She didn't move an inch, but her eyes popped open.

She clutched her Captain AmeriBear to her chest and tried not to see taunting figures in the dark of her room.

 _Just a dream…just a dream…calm down. Just a dream._

Now that she was awake and processing, her nightmare fluttered away from her mind, settling on the edges of her memory like a faint smell.

She'd seen her dad, she knew that much. And Sam, and Uncle Bucky. She thought maybe one of them had been hurt.

 _Dreams aren't real._ She thought stubbornly, remembering something her dad had told her once. _They're a product of all our worst fears…_

 _But what if…_

Everything she'd heard on TV or heard from Aunt Tasha earlier suddenly flooded her memory.

 _A guy that looked like Uncle Bucky bombed the UN and so he turned himself in because he didn't really do it and wanted them to not look for him and then Dad and Sam got arrested 'cause a crazy guy who's actually the king of Wakanda (wherever that is) attacked them 'cause he thinks Uncle Bucky actually did the bombing and killed his dad…_

In a sudden burst of panic, she shot out of bed, still clinging to her bear. She didn't want to stay in her room alone.

She padded down the hall until she reached a specific door, and opened it softly.

"W-Wanda?" she whispered, touching the figure in the bed.

Wanda was nowhere near sound asleep, so she woke easily, rolling over and blinking up at Christy. " _Mače_? What's wrong?"

Her tone was gentle, and it awakened the heavy ocean of worry Christy was trying to contain. She wiggled her way next to Wanda in the bed and started rambling:

"I had a bad dream and Dad got arrested and Uncle Bucky got taken away by stupid government people and all my grown-ups are fighting and I'm, I'm _scared_. I want my Dad! I want everybody home…"

Wanda sighed and pulled Christy closer. "Shh…I know, _dragi_. I know."

Christy sniffled. "I'm so _scared_ …I can't calm down and my heart won't stop beating fast…"

"Shh…" Wanda shifted so that Christy's back was against her chest, and her arm was positioned over the girl's front. She was still shaking slightly, whether from cold, fear, or some combination of both. "Think of something calm. You're vibrating, _mače_. I know it's scary…" She shut her eyes and admitted softly, "I'm afraid, too."

"I can't help but think something bad will happen. Something bad _always_ happens. I…I wanna go home."

Wanda frowned. "Go home where?"

Christy moved slightly. "I…I don't know."

She _didn't_ know. Where was home? The base didn't feel like home, empty as it was. Uncle Clint's house? It was nice, but it wasn't where she wanted to live. The Tower? Not anymore, even if her room was still there, with the four-color walls with tiny gold flecks. Maybe it was the apartment she barely remembered, where she'd lived with her mom, long before she'd ever gotten mixed up with superheroes…

She whimpered slightly.

 _Do I even_ _ **have**_ _a home?_

Wanda heard the sound and tightened her grip on the girl, rocking her a little. "Do you remember the first time we met?" she asked, fumbling for a distraction.

"I punched you in the stomach." Christy mumbled. _Not_ her finest hour.

"Yes, but you were afraid…and so was I. I was afraid you would be angry with me. Like everyone else…" Wanda stopped.

 _Like everyone now…_

"I wasn't mad at you _then_." Christy elaborated. "I was scared you'd hurt Dad or Uncle Bucky or Aunt Tasha again. But you looked really tired, too, and sad, so I couldn't be mad at you. And now I know better."

"Know better what?" Wanda asked, almost a whisper.

"I know that you're nice. And that you care about helping people. And that I love you."

Wanda just kept rocking back and forth, afraid that if she spoke, she'd start crying for good.

"I just want everybody back. That's what home is. I don't care where we live…what if they never let Dad come back, or Sam or Uncle Bucky…"

Christy finally surrendered into tears. And Wanda did the only thing she could think of.

" _Kiša pada, trava raste, gora zeleni…_

 _Ki- ša, pa-da, trava raste, gora zeleni…"_

The song was old, and it reminded her of happier times, when she was still young and innocent and carefree.

At last, Christy's breathing evened out and relaxed into the rhythms of sleep.

Wanda sighed.

 _Steve, you've got to come back, one last time. Please. You can't disappoint her._

 _Please…_

* * *

Bucky woke up to the feeling of cold metal and stale air. And a pounding headache.

 _What…what happened?_

His mind scrabbled as he tried to think what the last thing he could remember was. He was in that cage thing, and there was the weird doctor and then…

The book.

Bucky's heart sped up to a thousand miles an hour.

 _No, no, he said the words, the_ _ **words**_ _, oh, God, what did I do?_

He grunted and tried to move, and then realized that Sam was in the room…and that his metal arm was stuck in some sort of pincer device.

Now he was _really_ nervous.

"Hey, Steve, he's up." Sam called. Steve came into the room, his eyes big and sad.

His eyes hadn't been that sad since last, _last_ summer.

"Steve!" Bucky called out urgently. But Steve stood back, wary.

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" he asked, not unkind, but short.

 _Oh…oh…oh, crap; think Barnes! What's something…?_

"You-your mom's name was Sarah." he said slowly. Suddenly, a memory of skinny Steve popped into his head. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes." he added, the ghost of a laugh in his voice.

Steve turned to Sam, visibly calmer. "You can't learn that in a museum."

Sam still looked unconvinced. "And just like that, we're supposed to be okay?"

That hurt. A lot. Bucky sighed and faced both of them.

"You have a daughter named Christy that you love more than anyone else in the world." he said to Steve. "And…and if she could see me now…"

His voice cracked, shame oozing out like oil.

Sam nodded. "Alright. You pass, man. But you weren't exactly yourself earlier. You kinda knocked over Sharon and had Natasha in a chokehold…"

"Sam!" Steve cried out, horrified.

"Better he knows." Sam said firmly. "Better he knows than sits around torturing himself with imaginings. It's like cauterizing a wound."

Bucky moaned. "I knew it…I knew it was too good to be true. All he had to do was say the damned words, Stevie, and I was their little puppet again!"

"Hey…" Steve reached out and put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "We'll sort this out, I promise. But we need to know—what did that guy want?"

"I…I don't know, I'd never seen him before, I don't think…I don't know…"

"Buck." Steve said, gently, but with his 'Captain's' air. "Innocent people are dead because that creep wanted ten minutes alone with you. I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."

Bucky's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what had happened before The Words. "He…he wanted to know about Siberia…where I was kept. He was…asking about a mission, one mission in particular…" he trailed off in horror. "No…"

"No what?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked up with alarm-filled eyes. "I…I'm not the only Winter Solider."

"What do you mean 'you're not the only Winter Soldier'?" Sam asked, glancing around as though he expected another black leather-clad man with a metal arm to pop out of hiding.

"The mission…I remember, barely. He said, 'Mission Report, December 16, 1991.' And that…I took this serum that had been developed, from a car…I killed…" Suddenly, the alarm in his eyes intensified. "Steve, I killed them! I, I…oh, God…"

"Killed who?" Steve asked, half-afraid of the answer.

"S-Stark, and there was a woman—his wife? I killed them! I killed…" He started to lunge forward.

"Easy…" Sam said, placing both hands on Bucky's shoulders. "Look at me. You didn't know what you were doing. You were under HYDRA's control."

Steve's mind was spinning as the dots suddenly connected in his mind. He remembered the flashing news headline he'd seen when he and Nat had confronted Zola…

 _Howard Stark Killed in Car Crash…_

At the time, he'd hoped Bucky had nothing to do with it, that someone else from HYDRA had done the deed. Now, that hope was dashed to pieces.

 _Tony's gonna…_

He looked at Sam and Bucky. "Tony can't know about this…not until after this all blows over."

"I dunno if he's gonna be on speaking terms with us after this all blows over." Sam said realistically.

"Still. Let me be the one to tell him. Maybe then he won't…"

There was silence, each man processing what they all knew Tony's reaction would be.

"So. This guy…you think he's after the serum?" Steve asked finally.

Bucky nodded. "But there's more. They used the serum to make five more super soldiers, my caliber or better. They were the elite, HYDRA's death squad. And…they should still be at the base, in cryo."

"He said he wanted to see an empire fall." Steve mused quietly.

"With these guys, he could do it." Bucky insisted. "They speak thirty languages, can blend in anywhere. There's no telling what he could do…"

"Can the doctor control them?" Sam asked.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah…well enough. It's all in the book."

Steve shook his head. "We gotta get up there soon, before the doctor. And we might need back up."

Sam looked startled. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"Depends if what you think I'm thinking involves calling for back up."

"You do know this is all completely illegal, right?" Bucky said softly. "Maybe you should try and convince…"

"Convince them of what? That the doctor's a fake and you were brainwashed and it was on them for not having a guard down there with you? That the fake doctor is currently going to Siberia to unthaw an elite death squad of super soldiers to do God-knows-what?" Steve countered angrily. "They're not going to listen. We gave them a chance. They screwed up. End of story. This time, we can't afford to take a chance on them. We're on our own for this one."

The reality of Steve's words shook them all to the core. They really were on their own.

Steve let out a long sigh. "Let's get you outta this thing, pal. And then…I gotta make some calls."

* * *

Vision stood at the counter, peering at the tablet to the side of him. "A pinch of paprika…a _pinch_ of _paprika_ …"

Wanda walked into the kitchen area and sniffed the air. "Is that Paprikash?" she asked, fond memories of home flooding her mind. "Vision's making dinner." she sent to Pietro.

"I thought it might lift your spirits." he said, smiling.

"Can he even make food?" Pietro sent back. "No, stupid question. He can do anything. But _has_ he ever made food?"

"I don't know. But he's making Paprikash…where are you?"

"Room…I'll be out in a little while."

"Are you still on YouTube?"

"IT'S ADDICTING!"

In the meantime, Christy had slipped out of her room, intrigued by the smell drifting out of the kitchen. She stopped just short of the main area, where she could see the kitchen, but no one in the kitchen could see her.

She grinned and crouched down to eavesdrop, upon seeing who was in the room.

 _Wanda and Vision! He likes her, I can tell! Maybe I can play matchmaker again, like I did for Uncle Bruce and Aunt Tasha…_

Wanda sighed and dipped her finger into the sauce bubbling on the stove.

It was…not awful. But definitely not like she remembered.

 _Maybe he mixed up the spices…_

"Spirits…lifted." she said, trying not to hurt the Android's feelings. He'd clearly tried.

"In my defense, I haven't actually eaten anything before…" Vision said. He paused slightly. "Wanda?"

"Hmm?" Wanda replied, trying to think if there was a way to salvage the recipe.

"No one dislikes you."

Wanda laughed slightly. It was sweet, though very untruthful. "Thanks."

"Oh you're welcome." Vision said, in his 'I've figured it out' voice. "No. It's ah...an involuntary response in their amygdala. They can't help but be afraid of you."

Wanda wasn't even sure what an amygdala was, so she just asked, "Are you?"

Vision shrugged. "Well, my amygdala is synthetic, so..."

Laughing quietly, Wanda glanced down and watched the red sparks twirl though her fingers. "I used to think of myself one way. But after this… I am something else. And still me, I think. But that is not what everyone else sees."

Everyone else saw a monster, freak of nature. Something to be locked up and controlled.

Vision hesitated for a moment, and then touched the mind stone in his forehead. "Do you know, I don't know what this is?" he asked.

Wanda shook her head, intrigued. She didn't think much about Vision's stone, it was just…a part of him

"I don't, not really." Vision continued. "I know it's not of this world. I know it powered Loki's staff, gave you your abilities. But its true nature is a mystery. And yet, it is part of me."

"Are you afraid of it?" Wanda asked.

Vision shook his head. "I wish to understand it. The more I do the less it controls me." He tapped it lightly. "One day, who knows, I may even control it."

Wanda glanced back at the stove and changed the subject. "I don't know what is in this but it is not paprika. I'm going go to the store; I'll be back in twenty minutes. Get Pietro out of his room, if you can, and find…"

As she started towards the door leading to the base's garage, Vision swooped in front of her.

"Alternatively, we could order a pizza?" he suggested.

From her hiding place, Christy silently approved. _Pizza's good. Pizza's always good._

Wanda, however, was frowning. "Vision, are you not letting me leave?"

"It…is a question of safety." Vision said evasively.

"I can protect myself. And if you are really worried, I can take Pietro…"

"Not yours." Vision said, gently cutting her off. "Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident. Until the Accords are a more secured foundation."

Wanda's heart thumped loudly in her ears. She could decipher through Vision's pretty words.

She was more-or-less under house arrest.

"And what do you want?" she asked finally.

Vision sighed softly. "For people to see you...as I do."

Christy was concentrating on breathing quietly and trying to process what just happened.

 _Wanda…Wanda's not allowed to leave the base…she's trapped…she can't…_

She took a deep breath through her shirt, and army crawled back into the hallway, as Wanda told Vision that pizza was "fine".

Christy stopped outside Pietro's door, reached up for the handle, and rolled into the room.

Pietro looked up from his bed. "I'm coming, promise. Is food…?" he took one look at Christy's stricken face and immediately started asking questions. "What happened? Was it the news…?"

Christy shook her head and drew closer. "Vision won't let Wanda leave the base."

Pietro's eyes narrowed. "Wanda, what's going on out there?" he asked.

"I…I'll tell you in a moment, _brat_." she sent back.

Pietro muttered a curse in Sokovian. "Never repeat that." he said to Christy. "Now, what happened?"

Shaking, Christy repeated as best she could the conversation between Wanda and Vision. Pietro looked nearly murderous by the time she was done.

"How could he!" he hissed. "She is not a monster and he knows it!"

"It's not Vision's fault." Christy whispered back. "I don't even think it's really Uncle Tony's fault. He's got pressure on him from the government people." She looked down. "But I don't feel safe anymore, if we're basically trapped here."

Pietro nodded. "Did they say anything about me? If I can leave?"

Christy shook her head, just as Wanda slipped into the room. She looked at Christy. "You heard?"

Christy nodded. "But don't worry. I have a plan."

The twins glanced at each other.

"You have a plan." Wanda repeated slowly.

" _Neka nam je Bog u pomoći_." Pietro mumbled. "Christy, let the grown ups handle…"

"No." Christy's voice, though quiet, was firm. "Let me try. Please. I'm gonna call for back-up."

"Call who?" Wanda asked, half exasperated, half hopeful.

Christy looked around reflexively. "Uncle Clint. So at least he'll know. Even if he tells us to stay put, he'll know. This isn't right. It's not fair, and Dad told me to look out for you guys, 'specially Wanda." She drew herself up to her full height (which was decently impressive for an eleven year old).

Pietro looked at his twin. "Let her try, _sestra_. And Vision won't think to worry about her talking on a phone. If he sees one of us…"

Wanda nodded. "Fine. Try." She hugged Christy. " _Hvala, mače_." she whispered in thanks.

Christy nodded. "Just…trying to be like Dad."

* * *

In her room, after they had all eaten pizza, Christy rifled through her chest of drawers as quietly as she could.

 _C'mon, c'mon, I know it's in here…_

Finally, she found her prize.

When Steve had been working out of D.C., he'd given her a burner phone to use in case of emergency. Christy shut her eyes for a minute, remembering that day…

 _"_ _Now, you only use this for emergencies, okay baby?" Steve said. "I'll call you on your normal phone even when I'm on missions. But if something bad happens…call from this number, and I'll know there's a problem. Anyone will know there's a problem."_

 _Christy nodded seriously. "Okay, Dad. I promise; only for emergencies."_

 _"_ _Good girl."_

Christy breathed out a shaky sigh. _I hope this counts as an emergency,_ she thought, as she pressed speed dial for one of the seven numbers programmed into the phone.

 _Dad, Uncle Bucky, Sam, Uncle Clint, Aunt Tasha, Uncle Bruce, Uncle Tony…_

She sat, heart pounding, as the ringback tone sounded once, twice, three times…

"Christy?"

* * *

Clint had just sat down to dinner when his phone started buzzing. Grinning apologetically at everyone, even little Nathaniel (who had no idea what was going on), he glanced down and frowned at the number.

 _Now that's a number I haven't seen since…_

Eyes widening, he mouthed "I've gotta take this" to Laura, and walked out into the living room.

"Christy?"

"Uncle Clint?" came Christy's voice, quiet and desperately controlled. "We need you to come get us."

That one simple sentence had the power to make Clint's brain spiral into the worst of imaginings.

"What happened? Is the base compromised?"

"K-kinda. Vision's not allowed to let us leave. Mostly, he's not allowed to let Wanda leave, 'cause she's a 'security risk' or something…Uncle Tony said so, but I think he's got pressure…"

Clint barely refrained from swearing. "Okay…so you're all basically under house arrest."

"Basically." Christy whispered. "We were hoping you could help."

"Of course I will." he said, trying to put as much assurance into his voice as he could. "I'll…come as soon as I can. Get a bag ready, alright, and tell the others to, also. This phone get texts?"

"Yeah."

"I'll text you. Just…stay safe, okay, kid? Don't let Speedy Gonzales do anything stupid. I'll be there ASAP."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Uncle Clint."

"No problem, kid."

The line clicked off.

No sooner had that happened, then the phone started buzzing again. Clint looked at the number and almost laughed.

"Like father, like daughter." he muttered, pressing the 'talk' button. "Steve, what's happening?"

There was a pause. Then came Steve's voice saying, "Clint, I'm so sorry about this…but we need some back up."

Clint breathed out a rough sigh. "Yeah…a little bird told me things are going screwy at the base. What's up on your end of things?"

"By 'screwy,' I assume you mean that Wanda's more-or-less imprisoned at the base?" Steve said tartly, letting Clint know exactly what his thoughts were on the matter. "She's just a kid…" he whispered absently.

"Well, I was gonna go on a rescue mission anyway." Clint said. "But you need some more help?"

"Yeah. I need you, if you're in, Wanda and Pietro if they're in, and…remember Scott Lang?"

"Ant-guy?"

 _"Ant-Man._ Yeah, him. I'll text you his address. We're calling in all the reserves for this."

"Sounds serious…" Clint trailed off.

Steve sighed, and proceeded to give him the run-down. By the time he'd finished, Clint was convinced that retirement would just have to wait awhile longer.

"Alright, I'll get the twins and Lang, and meet you in Germany. And I'll get your kid to my house."

"Thank you, Clint…" Steve said, sounding as grateful as he always did, as though he wasn't ever quite sure he'd be listened to.

 _Idiot doesn't know how magnetic he is…_

"No sweat. I'll bum a plane and be there in 24 hours. See ya on the other side, Cap."

"Thanks, Barton."

Again, the line went dead.

Clint heaved out a long sigh and returned to the dining room. Everyone's eyes were on him.

"Dad, do you have to go save the world again?" Cooper asked.

"Ah…yup, looks like it, bud."

Cooper nodded. "Okay. Just come back safe."

"I'll try, buddy. You know I always do."

"Is Christy gonna stay with us, Daddy?" Lila asked.

Clint looked at Laura, and then nodded. "Yeah, baby, she is. I'm gonna go get her tonight."

If Laura was agitated by this sudden turn of events, she didn't show it. But as soon as dinner was finished, she put Nathaniel in his playpen and shooed the kids out of the kitchen and hissed, "Tell me everything."

So Clint did. Like always.

And, also like always, Laura simply said. "Okay. You have to do this. Come back to us."

And Clint nodded. "I will."

It was their promise.

* * *

Late that night, Christy suddenly heard a commotion coming from the main area. She raced out of her room to find that Pietro, Wanda, and Vision were already gathered there.

Vision was at the window with Wanda. Pietro stood behind his sister.

"I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm going to see…" Vision said, materializing outside. At that precise moment, Pietro dashed back into each of their rooms, and returned carrying three bags.

Clint appeared behind them. "Hey, everybody, the rescue train is here. Let's go."

Christy grinned and grabbed her bag. "Hey, Uncle Clint."

Wanda glanced down. "They should go, but perhaps I should stay…"

Clint shook his head. "Cap needs us. We gotta go." He reached out his hand for Wanda to grab.

Suddenly, Vision emerged through the wall. "Mr. Barton…what are you doing here?"

Clint gave a smirking grin. "Disappointing my kids…we were gonna go water skiing."

Vision seemed to take in everyone at once. "Pietro and Christy…there is no order about them. They can go. But Wanda..."

"My sister comes with me." Pietro shot back. "And if you love her, you'll let her go!"

Vision looked like he'd been socked in the chest. But he recovered. "I can't allow that. Mr. Stark..."

"Mr. Stark can kiss my ass!" Clint snarled. "C'mon, we're out. And you can tell Tony I said that, Vizh. No hard feelings for you, of course. I just don't take well to governments imprisoning innocent people against their will."

Vision sighed, and stepped closer to Clint.

Christy moaned. "They're gonna…"

Sure enough, a fight broke out. Clint, however, seemed to have forgotten that Vision could materialize and de-materialize at will.

"You can't stop me!" Vision said, exasperated.

Clint shook his head. "I know. But she can."

He looked at Wanda, standing stunned. But the girl moved her hands forward, letting the red sparks pulse. "Vision…that's enough; let him go. Let us go. Please."

Vision refused. So Wanda reached out with the tendrils and started to shove him down through the base floor.

"If you do this…" Vision gasped out. "They will never stop being afraid of you…"

"I cannot control their fear." Wanda whispered. "Only my own. I will not hide."

She sunk Vision well past the building's foundation. The four remaining individuals looked around at each other.

"Are we good?" Clint asked.

Everyone nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

On the plane that he'd gotten from "a friend of a friend—don't ask," Clint spelled out what was going on as best he could. Christy looked nervous, but resigned and Wanda looked just as anxious, but ready to fight.

But Pietro…

He sat quietly, as though turning something over in his mind, beside Clint in the co-pilot seat.

"I'm not going." he said finally.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Not goin' where?"

"To fight. I…" he glanced over. "Please don't think me a coward."

"That's the last thing I'd think about you." Clint said sincerely. This _was_ the boy that had taken several bullets for him.

"There are many people going already. I can run fast and punch, true, but what do I offer that another cannot? And…" he glanced back. "She needs me. Christy. She has had bad dreams almost every night since we got the news. Wanda…she wants to make up for what she has done. Even though she does not…" he sighed. "But me? This is how I pay back for all Steve has done for me. For all _you_ have done for me. When you two fight, you will not have to worry about your families."

His blue eyes shone with a fierceness, and for a moment, Clint caught a glimpse of the scrappy kid that had scrabbled out a living on the streets of war-torn Sokovia.

"Offer accepted." Clint said quietly. "Did you tell Wanda?"

Pietro nodded. "Natasha said things were bad, when she called. We agreed…if it came to a fight, I would stay and she would go. Now, I trust you…" he looked at Clint. "Please, bring me back my sister."

Clint gave a fervent nod and a quick salute. "On my honor…whatever's left of it. I'll bring your sister home."

Pietro looked satisfied. As they started to drop altitude near his house, Clint breathed out a silent prayer that he'd be able to make good on that promise.

He had a feeling that everything was about to go very, very wrong.

* * *

 **Yup, everything is definitely about to go horribly wrong.  
**

 **Translations:**

 ** _Mače-_ kitten (because Christy is always snuggling into people...but she also has "claws")**

 ** _Dragi-_ sweetheart**

 ** _Brat-_ brother**

 ** _Sestra-_ sister**

 ** _Neka nam je Bog u pomoći-_ God help us all**

 _ **Hvala-**_ **thank you**

 **Tune in next time for Christy and Pietro at the Barton's and the aftermath of the airport battle! (Because I am not going to try to replicate that entire battle in print! My gosh...the thought makes my head ache. Besides, it would be boring compared to seeing it on the big screen.)**

 **In the meantime...Reviews are wonderful things**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, all; back again. Sorry for the wait, but I had company over last weekend and then I went to see Civil War again yesterday, so I held off on posting until I could get a better visual and some of the lines back in my brain. My friend and I went to see it in the middle of the day and had the entire theater to ourselves; it was great! We got to give commentary the entire time ;)**

 **Also, one of my guest reviews asked about seeing some of Tony's POV, and I do want to put some of that in. I definitely sympathize with him in the movie; he's not really the bad guy, he just has a terrible time dealing with guilt, and with acting on emotion alone. I was going to have a bit with him this chapter, but it started getting super long, so that will be next chapter. You'll get the prison scene from his POV.**

 **Another small thing, Nathaniel's (Clint's youngest kid) middle name is Pietro, as shown at the very end of AoU on his bib. So when Pietro says, "my namesake," that's what he means.**

 **Anyway, on with the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Four

"We're landing in about ten minutes." Clint called out. "Get ready."

Christy gave a long, shuddering sigh and hugged Wanda hard. "Don't die."

Wanda would have laughed, but the girl's tone was deadly serious, so she just said, "Don't worry, _dragi,_ I'll come back. I promise."

Christy shook her head. "No, don't promise. Nobody can keep that promise, 'cause nobody knows what'll happen. Just…promise to try."

"I promise to try." Wanda repeated solemnly. "Now _you_ promise to listen to Pietro and Laura, and not to worry so much. It is not good for you."

"I promise the first one. The second…I promise to try."

Wanda sighed. _Well, I suppose that's fair_. _Almost everyone she knows and loves is fighting each other._

After giving Wanda one last hug, Christy went and plopped down in the co-pilot's seat that Pietro had vacated.

Pietro glanced at his sister. She was strong and smart and capable; this much he knew. But seeing her in the dimmed light of the 'jet, looking tired from lack of sleep…

She looked small. Fragile. Vulnerable.

 _No._ He thought firmly. _She can take care of herself._

 _But…_ another part of him protested, _but that's my job._ _ **Tata**_ _told me to look after her, and what if…?_

"Am I doing the right thing?" he whispered.

Wanda rested her hand on his shoulder. "You have to do what you think is right, Pietro. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. Christy…" Wanda glanced toward the front of the plane and lowered her voice. "As much as she thinks she can, she can't. Not yet."

"We were older than her…" Pietro started.

"And we had each other. Besides…Steve and Sam will be able to fight this fight if they know she is safe. Not to mention Bucky."

Pietro nodded. "I know. But still…" He grabbed Wanda's shoulder. "Please…come back to me."

Wanda swallowed. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask. _V-volim te, moja sestra._ " Pietro squeezed her in a huge embrace.

He could feel Wanda's tears soak into his shirt as she whispered back, _"Volim te…_

* * *

Clint had come in from the living room wearing his 'mission face,' and Laura had known immediately that something was up. After he'd given her the run-down on everything, she'd known he had to go.

The Avengers were even more of a mess than usual. And they were still Clint's mess, retired or no. That just came with the territory of having family.

Granted, most people's "family incidents" didn't involve terrorists trying to resurrect super soldiers or government registration, but the principle was the same.

It was late, nearly eleven, when the sound of a plane touching down filled the air. She was on the couch with Cooper and Lila (she'd known there was no hope of getting them to bed before Christy showed up), Nathaniel already asleep in his crib.

"Where did Dad get a plane from?" Lila asked.

"He's _Dad_." Cooped scoffed. "He can get a plane from anywhere. He knows tons of people."

"But _where_?"

Cooper shrugged. "We're probably not allowed to know."

It had started raining heavily earlier and Laura hastened to the door as soon as she heard the knock; determined not to keep anyone out in the storm. Yelling, "Coming!" she flung open the wooden front door…

And there, standing on her porch, were a very sopping wet Pietro and Christy, complete with duffel bags.

"Hi, Aunt Laura." Christy said. She was smiling and probably running on large amount of adrenaline, but Laura's "mom eyes" caught the exhaustion and sadness lining the girl's face. Pietro gave his trademark cocky grin, but there was worry hiding behind his smile as well.

"Come in, get out of the rain." Laura said, hugging them both (and not caring about the wet clothes). "The kids are excited. Not happy about…you know; but they're excited you're here."

She would ask Pietro about his presence later, after the two were dry and warm.

"Pietro!" Cooper called, dashing off the couch. "How come you're here? Aren't you gonna go fight with Dad and Wanda and Uncle Steve?"

"Don't you wanna beat up the bad guys?" Lila echoed.

Pietro let his bag sink to the ground and ran his hand through his hair, as though thinking.

"Guys!" Laura chided. "They're barely in the door!"

"Sorry." both kids muttered.

Pietro took a deep breath. "Your dad will fight better if he knows you are safe. That's why I'm here. Same for Steve. You…will understand, when you grow, that there are things sometimes more important than 'beating up bad guys'."

 _Like keeping people sane._

Cooper and Lila didn't look like they _quite_ understood…but at that moment, Christy gave a huge yawn.

"Christy, honey, go get out of those wet clothes." Laura said firmly. "Have you had a shower already?"

"Nuh-uh." Christy mumbled. "I forgot…but I'm too tired."

"I know, but you should. You'll feel better when you're clean. Go on, the kids' bathroom is open. You too, Pietro—go in mine and Clint's bathroom."

Pietro grinned. "Yes, mom." he said, with just the tiniest amount of sass.

Laura shook her head and smiled back. "Go…crazy boy."

After showers, they all sat in the living room. Cooper was showing Pietro his newest Lego set (Star Wars themed) and Christy was actually sitting still, letting Laura braid her hair while Lila talked about what had happened in school that day.

Eventually, though, the kids started yawning and rubbing their eyes.

"Alright, bedtime for all small children." Laura announced.

"Not small…I'm tall for my age." Christy said sleepily.

"Well then, bedtime for anyone under twelve."

"Rats…"

"Is Christy gonna stay with me, mommy?" Lila asked.

Laura glanced at her 'niece' (who had definitely grown quite a bit), then at her daughter, and contemplated the size of Lila's bed. And the fact that they still had only one guestroom.

"I think you both are a bit too big…maybe you can sleep with me, Lila, and let Christy have your room like last...?"

"No…" Christy whispered, almost like an involuntary reflex. She was quickly silent, though.

Laura frowned. "'No' what, sweetie?"

Christy looked down. "It's nothing."

Pietro gave her a sharp look. "So you are going to start lying, now?"

Christy's eyes flashed with anger, and the emotion gave her enough energy to look at Laura and say:

"I…I don't wanna be by myself right now. I know I'm okay, but...sometimes I wake up and…get nightmares. Please. We can make it work. I'll stay with Lila."

Laura felt her heart ache at the vulnerable tone of Christy's voice.

 _When all this is over, I will have_ _ **words**_ _with Tony Stark…and that idiotic general…and anyone else responsible for this mess!_

Lila frowned. "Then why don't you just stay with mom? She's the best at keeping bad dreams away. She even helps dad, and he has _really_ bad dreams."

"I can do that?"

Lila nodded. "Sure. I don't mind sharing."

Laura tucked Christy back against her chest. "And neither do I, sweet girl. Lila's right; I'm used to handling nightmares." She looked at each of the kids. "Alright, bedtime. Say goodnight to Pietro."

Goodnights were dutifully said and all three children tramped back towards the bedrooms. Christy glanced back briefly. "Th-thanks, Aunt Laura."

"No problem, baby."

As Christy disappeared out of sight, Laura turned to Pietro, still fiddling with Cooper's Legos. "Alright, mister. I'm very happy to have you here, but what's really going on?"

Pietro shrugged. "What I say. I want to stay. You alone, with four children…"

"I'm perfectly capable of handling four children."

"Wanda…" Pietro sighed. "She tries to atone by fighting this war. Me…I don't feel like I have anything to atone for, now. And I feel someone should stay back. I mean it; Steve will fight better if his child is safe. And Clint will fight better if he knows someone is here with you and the kids. I want to help. You want anything, ask me. I will do it."

There was such earnest frankness in his tone that Laura knew he was telling the truth.

"Okay, then." she said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Like I said, I'm happy to have you."

Pietro beamed…and then frowned as the soft sound of crying came from one of the bedrooms.

Laura sighed. "Oh, Nathaniel…he must have woken up with all the fuss…"

Pietro stood up. "Let me."

"No, it's alright, I should…"

"No, no; let me take care of my namesake." At that, the speedster zipped into Nathaniel's room almost before Laura could register that he was gone.

She shook her head and followed after him. As she approached the room, she could hear happy baby chatter and Pietro's voice cooing in a mix of Sokovian and English.

" _Ej,_ look at you, _mali prijatelju_! How you get so big? I miss you, too!"

Nathaniel had a wide baby grin on his face. "Mama!" he cried, upon seeing Laura. "P'e'to! P'e'to here!"

"I know Pietro's here, sweetie." Laura replied, smiling all the while.

Pietro laughed quietly. "He is so big now! How old?"

"A little over a year." Laura said. "I had him pretty soon after the Ultron fiasco."

"Ah, yes; I remember. Clint called Natasha, and she smiled…she really smiled." He balanced Nathaniel on his shoulder, bouncing slowly. "I hope I did not wake him up for good. You should sleep, _beba_."

"P'e'to here." Nathaniel said stubbornly. "P'ay."

"No, no; it is night, _mališa_. Time for sleep, not play. I am going to sleep, soon, see?" He gave a yawn that was not entirely faked.

Nathaniel gave a baby frown. "S'eep?"

"Yes, yes; I am going to sleep."

Nathaniel sighed and dropped his head down. "S'eep." he mumbled, closing his eyes. Pietro gave Laura a flashing grin and gestured questioningly with his head at the crib. When Laura nodded, he gently set the infant into the bed, and tucked the blanket over him.

The two adults backed slowly out of the room. Pietro gave another yawn.

"You really should get to bed soon." Laura said. She smiled. "He adores you."

Pietro glanced down shyly and shrugged. "Kids always liked me. For some reason. Maybe my pretty face, yes?"

"No, but really, you're always good with the kids, and with Christy. Did…did you have any younger cousins, or…?" Laura trailed off, uncertain if she wanted to press further.

Pietro sighed. "My…my parents died when I was ten, you know this. Wanda and I…there was no one else. All our relatives, gone. We were sent to an orphanage." He heaved another sigh. "Maybe some orphanages in my country are good ones. But this was not such a place. There was little food and the rooms were crowded. The…the war left many orphans, and there was not enough space. And the _caretakers_ …" he looked ready to spit. "If you could call them that. They did not care. Too many children, I suppose. Wanda and I were older…we helped take care of the little ones. Many times."

Laura was nearly stunned speechless. She'd known the twins' past was rough, but… "How long did you two stay at the orphanage?"

"We ran away when we were fifteen." Pietro murmured. "Thought the streets would be kinder than that place. They were; a bit. But we were very desperate. So desperate that when I heard about a group offering physical enhancements to make a way to get back at the capitalist oppressors…" he almost blushed. "Well, you know the rest."

Laura did. So she simply embraced him and said, "You were young and made a mistake. No less than anyone else does. Don't let the past tell you what your future will be."

Pietro nodded. "I won't. Promise."

* * *

Clint rubbed one hand over his face and kept the other on the wheel. Wanda, sitting shotgun, was quietly staring out the window. It was early morning in San Francisco. They had landed the jet in a secure, middle-of-nowhere location and spent the night. Now, they were off to track down and recruit the Ant-Man.

"How do we know he will agree to help us?" Wanda asked.

Clint shrugged. "Apparently Sam gave him a call, so he should know we're coming. I guess we can't _know_ he's gonna agree, but…when Captain America calls for help…"

"Everybody listens." Wanda finished. She laughed a bit. "A year ago, I would have called that patriotic nonsense. Now I know why it is true. He inspires loyalty." She shook her head. "He does not know how much."

"It's the puppy-dog eyes." Clint muttered sarcastically. "Could get away with murder with those baby blues."

They parked the car that Clint had 'obtained' from somewhere (Wanda knew better than to ask) outside the decent-looking apartment building and made their way up to room 21C.

A rumpled-looking Scott answered their knock.

"Hey, uh…hey. I-is this about the..? Uh, c-come in." he groaned. "Is it a superhero thing to get up so ungodly early?"

"Believe me, if I could have things my way, I'd still be in bed with my wife." Clint snarked. "Not chasing down a Bug-Man at oh-dark-hundred a.m."

" _Ant_ -Man." Scott mumbled petulantly.

"Are you in or not?" Wanda cut in, tired and not ready for verbal sparring. "Cap needs our help."

"Captain America needs my help? Yeah, I'm in!" Scott said, a dorky grin on his face.

"Think carefully, Lang; if you can." Clint said. "None of this is sanctioned, we're off the reservation all the way. You might not see your daughter for who knows how long."

At the mention of Cassie, Scott grew eminently more serious. "I know. But there's no way I'm letting some psycho creep wreak havoc on the world again. Not on my watch. I'd like Cassie to grow up safe and happy; I can't do that if I don't help. I already saw her, she knows."

Clint nodded, one father to another. "You packed?"

"Ah, yup." Scott gestured to a small bag. "Got the suit in there and everything."

"Then let's get outta here."

* * *

They arrived in Germany in the late morning, thanks to the time change. Clint actually rented a car this time—a giant, white van. Wanda, used to missions, was handling the time change decently well, as was Clint. Scott, on the other hand, had conked out as soon as they'd gotten in the van.

They got to the airport Steve had told them about, and found the other men in the parking garage. They weren't hard to spot.

"I wonder where Steve found that car…" Wanda mused.

Clint grinned. "How do you know it was Steve?"

"Only Steve would pick a Bug for a getaway car."

"Point taken." Clint craned his neck to study the car. "I wonder who got stuck in the back?"

They parked, and Clint got out of the driver's seat. "Hey, man." he called to Steve.

Shaking hands, Steve replied, "I'm sorry about this. You know I wouldn't have called you in if I didn't need you."

"I know." Clint said firmly.

Steve glanced behind him at Wanda. "Thanks for coming. Is Pietro in the van, or…?"

"He is your insurance." Wanda replied cryptically. At Steve's puzzled frown, she elaborated, "Christy is safe and he will keep it so. He is with her at Clint's house."

Steve's eyes widened in shock, and then he nodded, a grateful look flitting across his face. "Tell him, y'know…" he gestured at her head. "However you two do it. Tell him thanks."

Wanda nodded. "I will."

"She's safe, then?"

That was Bucky. Wanda almost winced to see him; he looked so… _haunted_.

"Yes." she assured softly. "She is safe."

Bucky nodded and closed his eyes—in gratitude or pain, Wanda couldn't tell.

Steve turned back to Clint. "You get Lang?"

"Yup." Clint threw open the van door to reveal a sleeping Scott. "Might need to put a little caffeine in him, but he'll be ready to go." He tapped the seat. "C'mon, Lang; up and at 'em."

Scott moaned and sat up, scrunching his eyes at the sudden light. "What time zone is this?" he mumbled, stumbling out of the van. He finally managed to open his eyes enough to see who was standing in front of him.

"Ca-Captain America." he stuttered. They had actually met several months back, but meetings since then had been few and far between. The hero-worship was still firmly in place. The two men shook hands

"Mr. Lang." Steve said, desperately trying to keep the smirk off his face as Scott _kept shaking his hand._

"It's an honor." Scott fumbled out. "I…I'm shaking your hand too long. Wow, this is awesome!"

He turned back to Wanda, still in a sleep-deprived daze. "It's Captain America! And you! You're Scarlet Witch! I know you too; you're great! Oh, wait…I already met you. But you're still great!"

Wanda couldn't help but smile at the man's honest (though rambling) praise. He was certainly in the minority of opinions that she had heard regarding her powers.

"Jeez..." Scott muttered, getting an eyeful of Steve's admittedly ripped chest. He quickly got a hold of himself. "Uh, look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super-people so... thanks for thanking of me; uh, _thinking_ of me."

Steve just grinned.

"Hey, man!" Scott said to Sam, giving the man a handshake.

Sam smiled, "What's up, tic-tac?"

Finally, Scott turned to Bucky, who'd been trying his best to disappear into the side of the car.

"So you're the one everybody's after, huh?"

Bucky nodded, staring at the ground. "I didn't do it." he said quietly. "Had an alibi and everything."

Scott gave him a decently lucid, contemplating look. "I called my daughter, after Sam called me. She wanted to know why the news was saying you were a bad guy, 'cause she said, and I quote, 'Mr. Bucky's nice'. And Cassie…well, she's a pretty good judge of character. I told her sometimes the news gets things wrong, 'cause people don't have all the facts."

The absolution in Scott's words hung in the air between them. Bucky nodded again. "Thanks."

"Did he tell you what we're up against?" Steve asked.

Scott nodded. "Sorta. Something about some...psycho assassins?"

"We're outside the law on this one, so if you come with us, you're a wanted man." Steve warned.

Scott just shrugged. "Yeah, well, what else is new?"

Steve gave one of his "Captain" nods. "Alright. Everybody suit up. There's a Quinjet somewhere in this airport, and we're going to… _borrow_ it."

"Uh…suit up _where_?" Scott asked timidly.

"Wanda gets the van…everyone else…go behind a pole or something." Steve directed. "Not like we'll see anything we don't have."

Clint couldn't resist. "Man, Cap, what happened to '40's sensibilities?"

"They died somewhere in the forests of Germany, Barton. Now, suit up!"

* * *

They all suited up and headed out into the airport hangar to look for the Avenger's Quinjet. Sam and Bucky went one way, and Steve and everyone else went the other direction. Suddenly, though, there came the whooshing sound of something flying through the air.

Or, more accurately, some _one_.

Tony flew down in his Iron Man suit, Rhodey right behind him. Natasha was with them, as well as Prince T'Challa.

"Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport." Tony deadpanned. "It's weird, right?"

"Definitely weird." Rhodey chimed in.

"Just hear me out, Tony." Steve tried. He really didn't want to fight. "The doctor, the psychiatrist. He's behind all of this."

Tony just looked severely unimpressed. T'Challa gave the group, more accurately _Steve_ , a brief nod. "Captain."

"Your Highness." Steve echoed.

"Okay, that's it." Tony cut in. "Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. It's been about 24 hours since then. Can ya help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy." Steve protested. "And you know it."

"Your judgement is askew." Tony said bitterly. "You're too emotionally involved. Barnes may not have killed anyone, but the least he could do is surrender himself."

" _I'm_ emotionally involved?" Steve shot back. "And you're not? You are the most emotional man I've ever met! You never _think_! You always just jump in and never stop to consider all the variables! And we tried the whole surrender thing. Look what happened!"

A tense, angry silence hung in the air.

"Tony, there are five more super soldiers just like Bucky; at the base he was kept at in Siberia. The doctor's headed there. I can't let him find them first, Tony, I can't!"

"Steve…" Natasha pleaded. "You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna fight your way out of this one?"

There was nothing said for another half-minute, just silence. Finally, Tony sighed.

"Alight, I've run outta patience. Underoos!"

Everyone's eyes nearly popped out of their heads as a blast of some sort of sticky webbing shot down and snapped up Steve's shield, like a mechanical crane game.

A small, thin figure in a red and blue suit was perched on one of the building terraces, the shield in hand.

"Nice job, kid." Tony called.

The figure moved slightly. "Thanks!" he called back, his voice young and high. "Well, I coulda stuck the landing a little better, it's just, it's a new suit…wait, it's nothing, Mr. Stark, it's perfect, thank you…"

Tony cut him off. "Yeah, there's no need to…start a conversation."

"Okay." the figure said back.

Wanda glanced at Clint. "Who is he?"

Clint shrugged. "No idea. Some punk kid Tony dug outta the woodwork, by the sound of 'im." His voice was mildly disgusted. "I thought we were above using child soldiers."

"Uh, C-Captain, Captain—big fan." The figure continued. "I'm the Spiderman…"

"Yeah, we'll talk about it later." Tony said firmly. "Just…"

"Hey, everyone." Spiderman continued.

"Good job." Tony finished.

"You've been busy." Steve commented wryly.

"And you've been a complete _idiot_." Tony hissed. "Dragging in Clint, _rescuing_ Wanda out of a place she didn't wanna leave, a _safe_ place…God knows what you've done with Pietro, not to mention your own…" he stopped short. Even as furious as he was, he knew that there was one cardinal rule in place since 2012 that none of the Avengers _ever_ broke.

 _No one outside our circle must know that Steve Rogers has a child._

"They're _fine_." Clint tossed in shortly. "At the usual place. And I volunteered."

"And how safe is a place you are trapped in?" Wanda added fiercely. "Maybe I _wanted_ to be rescued!"

Tony's face was less angered now, more desperate. "I'm tryin'...I'm tryin' to keep you from tearin' the Avengers apart!"

"You did that when you signed." Steve said, not unkindly, but determined.

Again there was silence.

"Alright." Tony continued shortly. "You're gonna turn Barnes over and you're gonna come with us, _now_ , because it's _us_. We're a squad of JSOC guys with no compunctions about being impolite."

Sam's voice suddenly came through Steve's earpiece. "We found it. The Quinjet's in hangar five, north runway."

Steve let out a sigh and gave Clint a "prepare for battle" motion. They clearly weren't getting out of this easily.

* * *

 _Well, this has gotta be a new low._ Sam thought. _Arrested by your own teammates._

The battle had been as big a train wreck as he had anticipated. Apparently Spider-boy (if he was a _man_ , Sam would eat his wings) could shoot some sort of web-stuff, and Scott could get really, really huge.

Steve and Bucky had made it away, but Rhodey had fallen out of the sky, immobilized by a mis-shot laser beam from Vision. And the four remaining members of Steve's "team" were now in government custody.

They had been picked up by the CIA and were now on their way to the stereotypical "undisclosed government location".

"This can't be legal." Scott muttered. "I mean…we're U.S. citizens…except maybe her, sorry kid…but still…"

"U.S. citizens who just basically committed treason." Clint replied tiredly.

"Treason? We were trying to go stop a psycho! How is that treason?"

"They won't see it that way." Clint bent down slightly and whispered to Wanda, who was tucked up against his side, "Do they know?"

Wanda nodded, and gave a choking sob. "They know. Pietro…is furious. I told him to stay. Christy is…not happy. Cooper and Lila are upset. Laura…Pietro said she is trying to be strong."

Clint sighed. "Tell your brother to tell everyone we'll get out of this mess. Promise. And Christy skypes your kid all the live-long time, Scott. She'll tell her."

"But how…?" Wanda questioned despondently.

"You think Steve's gonna leave us to rot in some government slammer?" Sam asked. "Not a chance. He'll get us out."

Clint nodded. "What he said. Don't you worry," he said, almost to comfort himself as much as the others. "no matter what happens, there's one thing you can count on in life: Steve Rogers always comes back for his own."

* * *

"What's gonna happen to them?"

High in the sky, Steve glanced back at Bucky, sitting behind the pilot's seat. He sighed.

"Whatever it is…we'll deal with it."

Bucky glanced down at the 'jet's metal floor. "I dunno if I'm worth all this to you. If I'm worth all this, _period_."

"What you did all those years…it wasn't you." Steve said firmly. "You didn't have a choice."

"I know." Bucky said. "But I did it. That still…counts for something. And then…here I thought I was halfway back to bein' fixed, and some jerk with spectacles comes in and rains on my parade!"

"That was a fluke!" Steve protested. "We've been lucky the past couple years! We shouldn't have got so cocky. I…I should have insisted they put a guard down there! Why wasn't there a guard?!"

Bucky sighed. "Because they didn't care. I shoulda known they wouldn't care."

"Yeah, well, that's a mistake I don't plan on duplicating again; trusting government officials." Steve said, rancor lacing his tone. "Not unless they take necessary precautions."

"I just…we gotta come up with some way to get this stuff outta my head. Somehow. Otherwise…all I am is a time bomb, Steve."

The truth of Bucky's words sent shivers of fear through Steve's body.

"It'll be okay." he promised. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

* * *

Clint really, _really_ wanted his bow. Actually, he would have settled for not being behind bars.

The three men had been given prison uniforms and confined in similar looking cells. But Wanda…

Wanda had been placed in a straitjacket and had an electromagnetic collar fastened around her throat, probably to control her powers.

 _Like a damn_ _ **dog**_ _._ Clint thought bitterly. _Pietro's gonna be pissed if he ever finds out about this._

He could hear her in the cell, two steps away from hyperventilating, and his "Dad" side was crying out in horror.

"I…I can't move! I can't move, I can't… _Želim da idem kući_! _Pusti me odavde!_ _Pusti me!_ "

"Kid, _kid_!" Scott called. "Ya gotta calm down! Think…think about something happy…"

"Wanda!" Sam said, in his counselor voice. "Wanda! Can you hear me?"

It took a few seconds, but the girl finally choked back, "Yes."

"Okay. That's good. Now, I need you to listen to my voice. Just my voice. Don't think about anything else. Can you still hear your brother?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Try it." Sam urged, his voice gentle. "You can do it."

There was quiet for a few moments. Then, Wanda reported. "I can hear him."

"Good." Sam said. "Now, just try to focus on breathing. In; out. In; out."

Wanda's breathing grew less shuddery as the minutes passed.

"Good job." Sam praised softly. He sat down on the bed in his cell and buried his head in his hands, as Scott started to tell some story about taking his daughter to a water park.

This was shaping up to be a very long, boring prison stay. And he was nearly sick with worry about Steve and Bucky, not to mention the kid. And feeling guilty about Rhodey.

They needed help. Big time.

He glanced up at the ceiling and, in habits ingrained from childhood, bowed his head into his hands and shut his eyes.

"Keep them safe. Please." he murmured. "Keep _us_ safe. I know this whole thing isn't so black and white, but…we're tryin'." he sighed.

"We're tryin' so hard."

* * *

 ***Cue sobbing*  
**

 **Yeah, I didn't want to replicate the whole airport battle, because a) that would be A LOT of writing, and b) everyone reading this has probably seen the actual scene and doesn't need me to tell what happened. I'd rather fill in the bits the movie DIDN'T show, or the bits that would be different in my 'Verse.**

 **Translations:**

 **Dragi:** **sweetheart**

 **Tata: dad**

 **Volim te, moja sestra: I love you, my sister**

 **Ej: Hey**

 **Mali prijatelju: little buddy  
**

 **Beba: baby**

 **Mališa: little one  
**

 **Želim da idem kući! Pusti me odavde! Pusti me!: I want to go home! Let me out of here! Let me out!  
**

 **Tune in next time for "What in the world is Tony Stark thinking," the prison scene, "how to cope with your dad getting arrested/being gone," and probably the Siberia scene as well. With T'Challa's POV (finally! I love him!) In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello all! This time around you get some of what Tony's been thinking, as well as a glimpse of the elusive Bruce Banner, and (finally) T'Challa in what I personally think is one of the greatest scenes in the movie! And you'll also get the usual dose of angst and hurt. Not much comfort yet, but it's coming, starting next chapter. I realize these chapters have been a bit heart-wrenching, but...seriously, check out the "source material"!**

 **Anyway, read on!**

* * *

Chapter Five

As the old saying went, when you hit rock bottom, the only way out was up; meaning, of course, that things would get better. Tony sincerely hoped the saying would prove true in this case.

After all, things could hardly get worse.

Right?

He'd thought things were bad when Pepper finally left for an undetermined amount of time ( _"Tony, we need space. You need to get your head on straight."_ ). But then, there had been the encounter with Charlie Spencer's mom, and then Ross and the Accords and the bombing and the fight…

And now, his best friend was looking at long-term paralysis.

He wished he had never dragged Rhodey into this mess.

 _Face it, Stark, you're bad luck_. he thought grimly. _Everyone you care about just ends up hurt. Usually because it's your fault._

Leaving Rhodey's hospital room, he went out onto the balcony and found Natasha. Hurt and betrayal clawed their way up into his heart.

In reality, he should have expected her to aid Steve, and Barnes ( _Bucky_ , his brain taunted, reminding him that he actually had been friends with the man. Still was friends. Maybe.) They were close. Closer than she'd ever been with him.

It still stung.

"How is he?" Natasha asked.

Tony shrugged. "The doctors say shattered-out S1, extreme laceration of the spinal cord; likely some form of paralysis."

Natasha's face held sympathy, but all she said was, "Steve's not gonna stop. If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario."

Tony turned around. Clearly he couldn't expect Natasha to really empathize with him. "Yeah, well, I gotta go now."

"We played this wrong!" Natasha plead.

"'We'?" Tony scoffed bitterly. "It must be hard to shake the whole double-agent thing, sticks in the DNA."

Natasha flinched and her eyes held the faintest glimmer of hurt. "Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for _one_ second? I'm trying to help you, Tony! We're a family, or at least we used to be. This whole thing is tearing everyone apart!"

 _Oh_ _ **now**_ _you care about the Avengers getting torn apart!_ Tony wanted to scream. Instead, he said, "T'Challa told Ross what you did." His voice broke a little. "They're comin' for ya."

Natasha just tossed him a dirty look. "I'm not the one that needs to watch my back." she said, walking off the balcony, presumably to disappear, like she knew how to so well.

And, once again, Tony was alone.

 _Are you incapable of letting go of your ego…?_

"I'm not the one opposing 117 nations to shelter my ex-assassin best buddy." he muttered. "Now _there's_ an ego."

 _Even if you know he's only doing it because nobody in the system will give Barnes a fair shake? And because Barnes_ _ **didn't**_ _bomb the UN?_

"You can't oppose authority forever." he argued with himself. (Wasn't that what crazy people did? Oh well.) "And they were bound to come after us anyway. I was just trying to prevent things from getting worse. You have to work with the system, otherwise the system just…crushes you. Of course it isn't perfect, but…"

Suddenly, his wristwatch beeped.

"What am I getting in, Jarvis?" he asked, feeling a sudden rush of gratefulness towards Vision, who had helped him "resurrect" Jarvis after the Ultron affair.

"Priority upload from Berlin, sir." the AI said.

Tony scanned the images and news reports, and suddenly, everything began to make horrible sense.

Barnes was definitely innocent of the bombing. And now he had proof.

"Start up the chopper." he said faintly.

* * *

"A task force called for a psychiatrist as soon as Mr. Barnes surrendered himself to government custody." Jarvis said smoothly, as the chopper flew above the Atlantic. "The UN dispatched Dr. Theo Broussard from Geneva within the hour. He was met by this man…" here, Jarvis displayed the image.

"Did you run facial recognition yet?" Tony asked automatically.

"Naturally I did, sir; you wound me." Jarvis said sarcastically, though in a level toned down from his usual snarkiness. "The fake doctor is actually Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Intelligence."

At the word "Sokovian" a sense of dread began to build in Tony's stomach.

 _That county has officially caused more trouble than it was worth!_

"Zemo ran _Echo Scorpion_ , a Sokovian covert kill squad."

That almost made Tony smile, grim as the situation was.

 _Who knew Sokovia had Black Ops?_

"And the real Broussard?" he asked.

"He was found dead in a Berlin hotel room, where police also found a wig and facial prosthesis approximating the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes."

Tony sighed. _Well, that clenches it. Ross'll have to believe us now. This still doesn't solve the whole mess about the Accords, but maybe I can convince the military to get involved, see that Barnes…_ _ **Bucky**_ _gets some kind of trial. Maybe that'll make Steve sign. Or not. But at least Bucky's name will be cleared…_

"Get this to Ross." he said shortly.

"Right away, sir." Jarvis replied.

* * *

But as usual, the best laid plans of mice and men…

Get utterly blown to hell.

Tony had leapt off the chopper raring to get moving and had more-or-less expected Ross to be with the program.

 _"_ _Well? You got the files?"_ he'd said to Ross. _"Let's sweep with the satellites. Start running facial scanning for this Zemo guy…"_

Ross had just stared at him almost pityingly. _"You seriously think I'm gonna listen to you after that_ _ **fiasco**_ _in Leipzig? You're lucky you're not in one of these cells."_

The words had hit Tony like a bullet, stunning him into a stupor.

Apparently Ross _didn't_ have to believe him. Or wouldn't. Either way…

 _"_ _We played this wrong!"_ Natasha's words rang in his head.

And suddenly, something had shattered inside Tony.

He'd been so desperate for boundaries, so desperate to find someone big enough to tell him "no" after so many screw-ups, that he'd wanted to believe Ross was some kind of reasonable authority figure. The kind who would listen.

But he'd picked the wrong guy. And now his friends were paying the price.

 _"_ _I need you to go down into the prison._ " Ross had said. _"See if you can get anything out of them about Rogers and Barnes."_

So that was where he was headed, fighting shivers all the way. This place gave him the creeps. But there was no way he would tell Ross anything. He already had a different plan in mind.

The door clicked open into an octagonal room with eight cells. Four were occupied.

As soon as he entered the room and the door shut, there came the sound of clapping and a loud cry of, "The futurist, gentlemen—and lady! The futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you—whether you like it or not!"

Tony bit his tongue to keep back a groan—although he supposed he deserved it. He was studiously avoiding looking at the cell Wanda was in.

Wanda, meanwhile, had looked up at Clint's words. Several days in a straitjacket had proven to win third place on her list of things _never to experience again_ , right below the deaths of her parents and brother (even if the last was just temporary), and she was writhing with boredom and shame.

Stark seemed to be purposefully avoiding looking at her. "Gimme a break, Barton, I had no idea they'd put you here." he said to Clint, his voice carrying an undercurrent of guilt.

Wanda heard the sound of spit hit the floor, and Clint say, "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some…supermax, floating ocean pokey—this place is for maniacs, this is a place for…" he faltered.

"Criminals?" Clint filled in 'helpfully'. "Criminals, Tony. I think that's the word you're lookin' for. Right? It didn't use to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. Yet here we are."

 _It did use to mean Scott_. Wanda thought, feeling humor for the first time in days.

"'Cause you broke the law." Tony said.

"Yeah." Clint muttered rebelliously.

"I didn't make you!"

"La-la-la-la-la." Clint mocked.

"You read it, you broke it!" Tony insisted.

Clint continued la-la-la-ing.

"Alright? You're all grown up now, you've got a wife and kids…" Tony continued. "Why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

There was icy silence for a few seconds.

"It may be the losing side right now." Clint said, in a tone of tranquil fury. "But I'm still not convinced it was the wrong one." He slammed against the bars. "Better watch your back with this guy! There's a chance he's gonna break it!"

Tony passed Scott's cell. The man couldn't resist tossing out, "Like Pym always said, ya never can trust a Stark."

Peering in at the man, trying to place him (and at last remembering something about Hank Pym's company that had happened last summer), Tony threw back a barb of his own: "Who are you?"

Scott threw out his hands. _Seriously, is_ _ **Ant-Man**_ _that hard to remember?_ "C'mon, man…" he murmured.

"How's Rhodes?" Sam asked, truly wanting to know. He still felt bad about the accident, even if it wasn't strictly his fault.

"They're flying him to Colombia Medical tomorrow, so…fingers crossed." Tony replied. He walked over to Sam's cell. "What'd'ya need—they feed you yet?" he questioned, honestly concerned. He wouldn't put anything past Ross at this point.

Sam smirked blackly. "You're the good cop now?"

"I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went."

Sam turned away. "Well you'd better go get a bad cop, 'cause you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information outta me!"

Tony sighed. He'd known this wouldn't be easy. He fiddled with his wristwatch for a moment, and then said:

"Huh; I just knocked the A out of their A/V. We got about thirty seconds before they realize I screwed up their equipment…and hopefully, that's all the time we'll need. Just look…" he leaned in, and Sam came closer, in spite of himself. "'Cause _that_ is the fella that was supposed to interrogate Barnes."

Sam's eyes widened as he took in the image of the murdered doctor, and then the man that Steve and Bucky had set off after.

 _If he's not a doctor, then who the hell…?_

"Clearly, I've made a mistake." Tony said. "Sam…I was wrong."

"That's a first." Sam muttered, surprised the apocalypse hadn't begun. Or, well… maybe it had.

"Cap is definitely off the reservation, but he's about to need all the help he can get." Tony paused. "You don't have to do this, and I know you probably don't trust me after…"

Sam stopped him. "It's…alright." he sighed. "Look, I'll tell you…but you have to go _alone_ and as a friend."

"Easy." Tony said firmly.

Sam shot him a level look, and finally nodded. "They headed to Siberia. There's a base there, where Bucky was kept, and where apparently these five other super soldiers still are. We didn't know exactly what Zemo's plans were, and now I really don't know…but he means trouble. I know that much." He stared at Tony firmly. "Be on your guard."

Tony nodded. "Coordinates?"

Sam rattled them off.

"Right. In that case, I'm off…I'll see what I can do about getting you guys outta here after…everything. Just hold on."

He started to head for the door, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Stark."

It was Wanda. Tony spun around, eyes shut. He opened them slowly, but couldn't look the girl in the eye.

"I don't hate you, Stark."

Tony flinched, visibly.

"I spent ten years wishing you dead. I've already wasted enough of my life hating you. I refuse to waste any more time."

Tony managed to raise his eyes, until they met Wanda's. He found a startling pity there.

"You need help." Wanda said softly.

Tony spun out of the room; away from his conscience, away from guilt, away from a quiet, piercing voice that told a truth he didn't want to hear.

Besides, he had a job to do.

* * *

 _Dun-da-dun—beep boop; dun-da-dun—beep boop_ …"

"I hope she picks up." Cooper mumbled.

Christy nodded worriedly. "I maybe did the time zone wrong…"

Pietro shook his head. "It is fine…four o'clock there, on a Saturday. She will be home. No school, right?"

The two oldest Barton kids, Christy, and Pietro were currently squashed inside a blanket fort in the living room, while Laura and Nathaniel napped. Activity of the moment: skyping Cassie Lang.

Scott and Cassie had been out to the Barton home once before, to the delight of all the "Avenger Kids," and it had actually been Lila's idea to call Cassie.

Pietro was grateful for the distraction, for the kids' sakes and for his own sake. Only little Nathaniel, too young to know what "Daddy's in prison" meant, was getting through this ordeal unscathed, but even he was beginning to sense the mood. He'd been much fussier lately.

Finally, the skype connection clicked, and a blonde-haired woman peered into the camera. She smiled a little at the vaguely familiar group of kids (and one semi-adult). "You guys wanna talk to Cassie, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am." Christy said politely. "If she's not busy."

"No, she's in her room." the woman turned aside and called, "Cassie, someone on skype for you!"

"Coming mommy!" came Cassie's faint cry. A moment later, she was looming in the camera picture. Her face fell a little; she'd clearly been hoping for Scott. "Hi, guys."

"Hi, Cassie." Lila said. "Do you miss your dad?"

"What kinda question is that?" Cooper cried, with older brother scorn. "Of course she does!"

Lila glared at her brother and a fight was only prevented by Pietro's separating hands and fierce look.

"You doin' okay?" Christy asked.

Cassie nodded. "Is your daddy gone, too?"

"Yeah, and theirs." Christy said, pointing at Lila and Cooper. "And Wanda, too. And…pretty much everybody else."

Cassie frowned. "The TV said they put Daddy in jail again. I saw it before Mommy could switch it off."

"That's 'cause the government people are dumb." Cooper said. "They don't know he was goin' with our dad and Uncle Steve and everybody to stop a bad guy."

"Mommy said…" Cassie stopped. "Mommy said before that Daddy wasn't a bad man, but that he just gets confused sometimes. About what's good and what's bad. Is he confused this time, too?"

Pietro scrunched down in front of the camera. "Cassie? _Mališa_?"

Cassie smiled. "Hi, Pietro!"

"Hi, _dragi_. Listen to me, hey? This time…" he sighed. "This time your dad is _not_ confused. Understand? This time, the government men, the guys in charge…they are confused. They are forgetting what's good and what's bad."

Cassie nodded solemnly. "Okay. Do you know when he's coming home?"

Pietro shook his head. "No, I don't. But…we will hope for soon, yes?"

"Yeah. Soon."

"Did you learn how to do a bridge yet?" Christy asked. Cassie was taking gymnastics lessons, and since Christy had learned a few things from Natasha, it was an area the two had in common.

"Yeah! Wanna see?"

* * *

Bruce answered the knock on the door of his tiny, hole-in-the-wall apartment in Seoul. He'd been laying low for the past couple of weeks until all this mess died down. (Because hopefully it _would_ die down…)

But he wasn't nearly so cautious as usual, for he knew who was on the other side.

He opened the door and found Natasha leaning calmly against the frame. She kissed him on the cheek, and then stalked into the apartment, practically throwing herself onto the couch in a heap.

"You wouldn't _believe_ my week." she said sarcastically.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he shut the door and locked it. "Oh? Try me."

"Stark's lost his mind, Cap's off to Siberia with Bucky to track down some psycho who's motive seems to be watching the world burn at this point, the government wants my hide, and I haven't eaten in almost…" She glanced at her non-existent watch. "A long time."

Bruce smirked and walked into the kitchen. "Well, the last I can fix. How does leftover kimchi and beef bowl sound?"

"Heavenly, especially after eating whatever C-rations were in that plane I… _borrowed_." Natasha finished, thinking of Steve in D.C. what felt like ages ago.

 _"_ _Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?"_

 _"_ _Nazi Germany. And we're borrowing, not stealing; take your feet off the dash."_

She let out a sigh. "It feels like the world's gone mad."

Bruce nodded. "I've been watching the news, keeping up as best I can. But I somehow have a sneaking suspicion they're not telling the full story."

"Probably not."

"You wanna help me out there?"

The microwave dinged. Bruce removed the leftovers and set them on the small coffee table in front of Natasha.

"Eat. You're safe here—trust me, I know a thing or two about hiding in plain sight."

Natasha smirked. "I still found you. I found you in _India_ , of all places. Only reason I didn't find you after Sokovia was no tracking device."

Bruce grinned. "Yeah, yeah; but this time, you're not the one comin' after me. So eat…and then I wanna hear everything the government _doesn't_ want getting out. Including why _Captain America_ is now a hunted fugitive."

Natasha nodded. After downing about half the food, she wiped her face and started: "Okay, remember when I told you General Ross showed up…?"

* * *

Steve had spent about half a minute thinking he and Bucky were doomed when he caught sight of the Iron Man suit glinting in the dim light.

"You seem a bit defensive." Tony called out.

Steve edged closer. "Well, it's been a long day."

 _Understatement of the century…_

"You can relax, Barnes, I'm not currently trying to hunt you down!" Tony yelled back to Bucky, who was still perched warily with his gun, ready to shoot.

"Then why are you here?" Steve asked impatiently. They potentially had five deadly super soldiers still to deal with; he didn't have time to waste in a verbal sparring match with Tony.

Tony walked closer. "Maybe your story's not so crazy. Maybe you were right about the doctor being behind everything. Course, he's not really a doctor after all, and he murdered the guy that was really sent to evaluate Bucky, so…"

Steve's eyes widened.

"I coulda told you he was no shrink." Bucky said. "He was too creepy. But did anybody ask me? No! They just locked me in a box and left me alone with the slimeball!"

"They had the room on video feed." Tony protested.

"Still shoulda had a guard down there." Steve countered. "For precautions, if nothing else."

Tony sighed. "Look, Ross has no idea I'm here; I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I'd have to arrest myself."

Steve smirked. "That sounds like a lot of paperwork."

Tony laughed slightly.

"It's good to see you, Tony." Steve continued honestly. He hated having to fight against the man he really did consider a friend.

"You too, Cap." Tony turned to Bucky, who was still holding the gun. "Ugh, Manchurian Candidate, you're killin' me, there's a truce here!"

Slowly, Bucky lowered the gun and stepped closer. "I didn't bomb the UN." he said steadily. "I was at Peggy Carter's funeral. I don't bomb buildings or assassinate people anymore. And…did I pull a gun on you, after the creep…?"

Tony nodded tightly.

"I…sorry. I remember, but I couldn't…stop. It's like remembering through a fog."

Tony shrugged. "It's…alright."

"No, it wasn't." Bucky's face was serious. "I may'a been under mind control, but that doesn't make it okay."

Tony nodded again. "Fair." he changed the subject. "Look, don't we have a psycho to stop?"

The three men carefully picked their way into a large room. It was gray and somber, with a morbid tang to the air. Scattered in a semi-circle were five cryo chambers, in the center sat the mind wipe machine, along with some sort of screen.

Bucky let out a low growl at the machine, but took a breath of horror at the site of the chambers. "Look…" he muttered.

Each of the super soldiers still sat, suspended in cryo. A bullet hole in each of the glass walls proclaimed that they would never wake from slumber.

"If it's any comfort…they died in their sleep."

A tiny metal panel slid open, revealing the face of Zemo. He sneered at Bucky. "Did you think I wanted more of you?"

Angry, Bucky threw his chin out in gesture straight from Brooklyn days. "Only one'a me… _me!"_

Zemo smirked, ignoring the comeback. "I'm grateful to them, though…they brought you here."

On reflex, Steve flung his shield at the back wall, only to have it bounce off harmlessly.

"The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blasts of UR-100 rockets." Zemo said, sounding bored.

"I'm bettin' I could beat that!" Tony cried.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark…given time. But then you'd never know why you came."

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve asked.

Somewhere in the shadows, a dark figure (in appearance, though not in heart) gasped quietly.

Zemo leaned forward, gazing at Steve. "I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you, I followed you. And now that you're standing here, I've realized…there's a little bit of green in the blue of your eyes."

"It's the Irish in him!" Bucky snarked, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. What was this guy's _deal_?

Zemo chuckled. "How nice to find a flaw."

"You're Sokovian…" Steve said, finally realizing why the man's voice seemed familiar—he spoke with the same accent as the twins. "Is that what this is about?"

Zemo shook his head. "Sokovia was a fail-state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise."

Steve felt his heart sink. "You lost someone." he guessed.

"I lost e _veryone_." Zemo corrected. "And so will you. An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one that crumbles from within? That's dead."

The little screen they'd noticed earlier suddenly turned on, and Steve got a horrible sense of déjà vu.

The video showed a winding road, and suddenly he knew what the tape was.

Apparently Tony did too, because he cried, "I know that road…"

Bucky's eyes were wide in horror. "Tony, I…I need."

But Tony wasn't listening. "What is this?!" he called to Zemo.

He soon found out, as the tape kept rolling, unflinching, showing the horrible deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.

Bucky could barely move because that was _him_ in the screen, but his face was so dead and lifeless in the video and the night was so fuzzy in his head…

Tony turned to Steve at last, the potent combination of grief and anger in his eyes. "Did you know?"

Steve faltered. What was he supposed to say? "I…I didn't know it was him!"

Tony grabbed him closer. "Don't lie to me, Rogers—did you know?!"

At last, Steve choked out, "Yes, but only…"

But Tony was past the stage of listening. He made a wild lunge in Bucky's direction but Steve pulled him back.

"Tony, Tony; you know he didn't know what he was doing! Tony, don't kill him! He's literally all I…"

Next thing Steve knew, he was knocked to the ground by a blur of red.

* * *

T'Challa, formerly crown prince and now king of Wakanda, was watching the fight with mounting horror.

 _I almost killed an innocent man…_

True, there were many who would fight him on calling James Buchanan Barnes "innocent" but the fact remained that Barnes was not the man responsible for killing his father.

No, that man had, for reasons that only made sense in his sick mind, schemed to pit the Avengers against each other.

T'Challa had seen the wild look in Stark's eye, upon finding out that Barnes had killed his parents. He sympathized with that look.

 _Vengeance will not bring back the dead._ It was a phrase his father had often quoted.

He had come close to his goal of killing who he thought was his father's murderer…but at what price? Would another man's death bring his _baba_ back to life?

In his heart, T'Challa knew that his father would not have approved of his quest for vengeance. He had told Miss Romanoff that he was not his father, and he wasn't…

But that didn't mean that he had the right to throw out all his father's lessons like so much trash.

The man, Zemo, sat crouched on the edge of the snow-covered cliff. T'Challa approached softly, sheathing his claws.

"I almost killed the wrong man." he called out.

"Hardly an innocent one." Zemo replied.

"Is this what you wanted?" T'Challa asked. "To see them pick each other apart?"

There was a long pause. Then, Zemo said, "My father lived outside the city, and I thought we would be safe there. My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, 'Don't worry. They're fighting in the city. We're miles from harm.'" he stopped, shook his head. "When the dust cleared, and the screaming stopped, it took me two days until I found their bodies...my father still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers? They went home. I knew I couldn't kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. But if I could get them to kill each other…" he shrugged. "I'm sorry about your father. He seemed a good man, with a dutiful son."

T'Challa shook his head at this vision of what he could so easily have become—a man burdened by hatred and grief, unable to move on.

"Vengeance has consumed you." he whispered. "It's consuming them...I am _done_ letting it consume me. Justice will come soon enough."

Zemo smirked. "Tell that to the dead." At that, he lifted the pistol in his hand to his throat, and started to pull the trigger.

But T'Challa was faster. He grabbed the gun and wrestled it away from the disturbed man.

"The living are not done with you yet." he hissed.

 _Justice will yet be done._

* * *

Pain was all that Bucky could register as he lay sprawled on the ground. Tony and Steve were still duking it out and his arm…

His arm was gone. Tony had blasted it off with his laser, without a second thought.

Granted, Bucky had probably gotten a little carried away in the fight, but…

 _Tony worked on that arm. He made me a cover for that arm. Painted…Steve's shield on it, to replace the star…_

That part of the arm was still attached to him, thank goodness.

Tony suddenly switched fighting styles, and it seemed like Steve was in serious trouble. He was knocked to the ground, panting.

Looking up at Tony, he simply said, "He's my friend."

"So was I." Tony shot back, real hurt in his voice.

 _It's not the same!_ Steve wanted to cry. _Bucky's the only person left from my life before! I've lost everyone else I knew! Everything!_

Tony knocked him back into the space between two support columns. "Stand down. Final warning."

But Steve, stubborn Steve, managed to get to his feet, fists raised and ready to strike. "I can do this all day." he panted.

The words jolted through Bucky like a shot of caffeine and when Tony moved to attack, Bucky grabbed his leg, throwing him off balance. Tony still shook him off, but it was enough for Steve to get the upper hand.

For a second, Bucky was seriously worried that Steve would strike a killing blow. But in the end, all he did was damage the suit.

Still, it was damage enough.

As Steve limped over and helped him up, they both heard Tony yell, "That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!"

Bucky had just opened his mouth to tell Tony where he could stuff it, when suddenly…

Steve dropped the shield. It gave a thudding clang of finality on the hard, concrete floor.

"C'mon Buck…" Steve whispered. They limped out of the building.

"Why…?" Bucky gasped out. Steve's shield was… _Steve's shield_! "Stark was just mad, he didn't…"

"He meant it." Steve said quietly. "But that's not why. It's because…that shield is a symbol of _Captain America_ , and I don't know if I can be that person anymore. They want me to be someone else, someone who's willing to fight for an agenda. And if I can't be that hero…then I won't. I'll just…I'll just be plain old Steve Rogers and hope that's good enough for the world."

Bucky sighed. They would be discussing this later. But for now...

"It's good enough." he managed. "It's always been good enough."

* * *

 **Angst and feels. Yay. But I promise things are going to start looking up! It's always darkest right before dawn. And soon we have the prison rescue! (My reaction to that scene the first time I saw the movie was to yell, "YES! ROGUE AVENGERS!") I kinda have a thing for groups of people opposing corrupt/unfair authority and sticking it to "the man". I blame the Robin Hood legends I read as a young teen.  
**

 **Tomorrow will be the fifth time I see this movie in theaters...I win my bet with myself ;)**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, everyone! Sorry for the wait, but hope this super-long chapter makes up for it. Seriously, I think this is the longest chapter I've written, EVER. But, we're mostly out of movie territory and into damage control. Yay for cleaning up messes!**

* * *

PART TWO: RECONSTRUCTION

Chapter Six

Steve and Bucky stumbled out into the blinding swirl of white and cold.

"We gotta get…the guy, the fake…doctor." Bucky panted, worried that he would pass out any moment. His shoulder felt like it had been shoved into a fire and the pain was excruciating. "He's gotta…answer t' somebody."

"We're not gettin' anyone right now, pal." Steve corrected. "Not in the shape you're in."

"I'll…be fine. Lean me…up against…a wall. Gotta get…"

"I think I would agree with the Captain, Sergeant Barnes. You do not appear in the shape to fight anyone, currently."

Both men froze and managed to turn around unsteadily. There stood T'Challa, black cat suit and all.

Bucky shut his eyes wearily. "If you're gonna kill me…just get it over with…" he mumbled.

Steve, however, still had enough strength left to shift his body between Bucky and T'Challa and hiss, "If you want him, you're gonna have to fight me."

"No, Captain." T'Challa lifted his gloved hands, showcasing the absence of claws. "I am not here to cause more trouble. I am here to help."

Steve wanted to believe him, but pride made him ask, "And _why_ should I believe _you_?" in much the same tone the king had used when questioning Bucky's non-involvement in the bombing.

T'Challa sighed. "That, I deserved. I made a foolish mistake, and for it I apologize. I was blinded by my grief and anger, and I chose to pursue an innocent man instead of listen to truth." He nodded at Bucky. "I have caused you much grief, recently. I am sorry. You did not deserve my attacks."

Bucky gave a pained, jerky nod. "'S alright."

"It was not. In the meantime, I intend to make up for my actions the best way I know how. Zemo is _subdued_ …" the last he said with a snarl. "You need not worry about him. He is confined in my plane, in a small area. I will…'drop him off', as you say, with Ross and his people." He gave Bucky a reassuring glance. "My knots are tight, and so are my locks."

Bucky gave a humorless laugh. "Hope ya…cut off his circulation."

"And now, I wish to aid you further. If I may…neither of you look in any condition to fly an airplane."

Steve started to protest, but Bucky cut him off. "I'm not…he's not…don't believe 'im. Don't care 'bout the serum…"

Steve sighed. "Fine. He's right…but we need to get him someplace safe."

T'Challa gave a decisive nod. "We will go to my country, after I dispose of Zemo in Berlin. There, you can both receive the medical care you need."

A whole host of questions raised themselves in Steve's mind, but in that moment, he could feel Bucky lose consciousness and slump into deadweight against his side, so he settled for asking:

"Where's your plane?"

* * *

T'Challa's "plane" turned out to be something similar in design to a Quinjet, with a small amount of space behind the cockpit. Steve dragged Bucky into the area, and T'Challa took up the pilot's seat.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve asked quietly.

T'Challa was silent as he fiddled with the controls and the plane went airborne. Finally, he replied. "I agreed with the Accords because I thought that something was necessary to prevent further bloodshed. But I see now that oversight is no good if the oversight itself is not held to certain standards. I do not believe a panel will do right by your friend, or, frankly, by you, in this moment. It has certainly not done right by your friends."

Steve bit his lip. "My team…" he said quietly, guilt hitting him like a punch.

"They are currently imprisoned in a secure facility; I believe it is called the Raft. I can give you its location."

Steve nodded shakily. "Th-thank-you. I have to…oh, God—Wanda! They probably…Pietro will kill me…and Clint, Scott, they've got…and Sam! I've gotta get them out…" The concern in his voice was palpable.

"Thought you said we'd handle it." Bucky slurred, coming back to consciousness.

Steve let out a sigh of relief and moved Bucky into a sitting position. "C'mere, lemme see your shoulder, jerk."

"'M fine…"

"Lies…" Steve replied, almost sing-song. He winced as he examined Bucky's shoulder. It wasn't as bad as an actual amputation would have been, but the arm had clearly been attached to his body somehow, and the injury was likely causing a severe amount of pain. "He got ya good, Buck…we should probably lift this up."

"There should be medical equipment in the back, and blankets." T'Challa offered. "And my people will give the best care possible."

Steve nodded. "Thank you." Sure enough, there was a med kit and several blankets, which Steve wrapped around Bucky's body. "You need to be warm." he murmured.

Bucky sighed. "Yeah…had enough of the cold."

After Steve had bound up his shoulder well enough to stop any blood flow, Bucky said, "Now you."

"Now me, what?" Steve asked, smiling a little.

"Now check yourself over, Steven Rogers. I'd do it myself, but I'm a little…tied up. Go on, I know you've probably broken a couple'a ribs at least…"

"I'm fine, Buck; I heal fast, remember?"

"At least take a nap, then. When's the last time you slept?"

Steve's pause betrayed his answer. "I gotta stay up with you."

"I'll be okay for a couple hours. G'wan. Sleep."

"I…"

"Captain." T'Challa's voice cut in. "I think I agree with your friend. You must be very tired and there is little you can do right now, in your shape."

"See!" Bucky crowed. "Listen to the king, Stevie."

Steve's lips turned down mulishly. "Americans don't listen to kings." he mumbled.

Bucky groaned. _He must really be exhausted. He'd never say that if he were thinking straight._ He had just opened his mouth to apologize to T'Challa, when the man beat him to the punch.

"Do they listen to warriors?" T'Challa asked.

"Sometimes…"

"Well, then. I am both warrior and king, as I told you. As a warrior, I understand the fatigue of battle and the importance of rest. And, as a king, I order you to take that rest. Is that satisfactory?"

Steve sighed and grabbed one of the remaining blankets. "Promise me you'll still be here when I wake up." he said to Bucky imploringly.

"I ain't goin' nowhere." Bucky assured. "Not without you. Now _sleep_!"

Finally, Steve laid down. He was sound asleep within five minutes.

Bucky turned towards T'Challa in the cockpit. "Thank you, for that. He's always too stubborn for his own good."

T'Challa nodded. "I gathered as much." he paused, and then added. "I meant what I said earlier. I was wrong to chase after you and attack you as I did."

"Hey, you thought I killed your dad. Given my history and the information you had, it wasn't a wrong conclusion to come to." Bucky glanced down. "I'm sorry about your father, by the way. Sorry he had to be a casualty of this whole ugly mess."

"It seems that you are as much a casualty of this… _mess_ as my father. Zemo's goal was to tear the Avengers apart. He did not have to include you…but he did."

Bucky sighed. "He played all of us. And he messed with my head. I thought that maybe, just _maybe_ I was halfway close to bein' okay…and all that bastard had to do was say ten little words, and I was their puppet again. That damned book…!"

"This book?"

T'Challa held up a familiar red volume, the silver star glinting in the lamplight.

Bucky drew in a sharp breath. "Where did you…?"

T'Challa gave a rather inelegant snort. "Did you think I would let Zemo keep it? I will do with it as you see fit."

 _Burn it_. Was Bucky's first impulse. _Burn it straight to hell where it belongs._ But he got a hold of himself and murmured:

"I'd like…I'd like to try getting whatever they put in my head… _out_ of my head. M-maybe…maybe I need the book to do that."

T'Challa nodded. "We shall see. My country has some of the best doctors in the world. All my resources will be available to you."

"How are you gonna get away with this?" Bucky questioned. "I mean…we're probably two of the most wanted men in the world, ironically." He glanced at Steve. "Ironic for him more than me. And doesn't most of your country probably still think I killed your father?"

T'Challa shrugged. "Facts have a way of revealing themselves. I will make it known who my father's real killer was. And in the meantime, who will suspect you of being in Wakanda? No one has reason to believe I would offer you or the Captain asylum. And as for my returning so quickly to my own country, I have still a funeral to arrange, and a coronation as well. And a country to rule. I have no reason to hang about with Everett Ross. Or General Ross. Either Ross."

The cool, contemptive way he said the last bit made Bucky smile. "Nah…don't suppose you would. Either of 'em. Their sort doesn't deserve you, anyway."

T'Challa's eyebrows shot up. "Tell me, Sergeant, what gave you such a high opinion of me? Was it when I tried to claw you to death in Berlin or when I nearly choked you in Leipzig?"

Bucky laughed at that, a laugh which had to quickly be stifled as his shoulder and likely cracked ribs complained. "Well, considering I don't think either Ross deserves much of anyone, it's not _that_ high a compliment. But…you seem like an alright sort. When you're not trying to kill me. And…it's Bucky." he added daringly.

"Pardon?"

"My name. It's Bucky. Or James, if you like. But nobody's called me Sergeant for a long time now. I'm not exactly part of the army anymore."

T'Challa jerked his head towards Steve. "Neither is the Captain, I presume."

"Steve's different. It's his…moniker, more than rank. Actually, with the way Sam scoped it out, he'd likely have been a general by this point, if it hadn't'a been for the ice." The pride was evident in his voice.

"You care for him." T'Challa said softly.

Bucky nodded. "He's my brother, in all but blood. Been watchin' his back since the day we met. Guess he figures it's his turn now. He's about the only reason I don't just give up altogether, some days. The other one's…" he stopped talking and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, God…"

"Is something wrong?" T'Challa asked, alarmed. "Is it your arm?"

"No, no; not about me, it's…" he took a deep breath. "Uh, this whole asylum thing…" he gestured at Steve. "H-he's got a _kid_."

T'Challa raised his eyebrows, but otherwise took the news calmly. "I do live in a palace. One child will be no trouble. And if she is as well-mannered as your friend, there should be no issue with that, either."

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. She's…she's stateside now, with the other of the Maximoff twins…"

"Ah, yes; the fast one. Quicksilver, they're calling him. I was wondering where he was, at the airport."

"Right. Pietro. Uh, I don't suppose…?"

"He will want to see his sister, no doubt. Perhaps help to free her, yes?"

Bucky smirked. "Oh, yeah. He'll wanna help."

"Then he should come with the child. Girl or boy?"

Bucky's whole demeanor changed and a giant smile bloomed on his face. "Girl, little girl. Name's Christy. She's eleven and the absolute smartest kid on the planet…" The smile died. "I can't imagine how rough she's had it these past couple weeks."

T'Challa nodded. "It is not an easy thing to be separated from a parent." he said, raw emotion seeping into his voice. "She should come as soon as it is safe. Is there someone you can trust to bring her?"

"Uh…yes." Bucky mentally thumbed through his list of options at this point. "Natasha, probably Natasha. Borders and warrants for arrest don't mean nothin' to her."

T'Challa smirked. "Yes, Miss Romanoff does not seem the type to care overly much for politics and regulations. A trait I can well sympathize with." He glanced back. "Perhaps you should rest as well."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you you've got a way of makin' a suggestion sound like a command?"

"You thought that was a suggestion?"

Bucky sighed and laid down as best he could. "Nope, guess it wasn't."

Either way, T'Challa was right. He could feel exhaustion crashing through him like a lead weight.

T'Challa watched as both men relaxed into slumber. They looked much less fearsome in sleep.

 _So young…_ he thought. _Barely older than I, and the whole world is hunting them._

A slow, fierce smile spread across his face. He did not carry the title of the Black Panther, Protector of Wakanda, for nothing.

 _Just let Ross try to take them away! They are my under_ _ **my**_ _protection! And no one messes with the Black Panther._

 _Unless they wish to be clawed._

* * *

Stark Tower seemed deserted as two figures made their way onto what had once been the Common Floor (and still was, in a sense).

"He's not here." Natasha said, flipping on a light. "There, that's better." she muttered.

"He'll be in the lab, or I don't know him at all." Bruce replied. "Jarvis?"

"Mr. Stark is in the lab, as you deduced, sir. If I may say so…he's in a rather bad way."

Bruce heaved a long sigh and glanced at Natasha. "Well, we knew this wasn't gonna be easy."

"We'll handle it." Natasha said confidently. "I can make food, because we both know he won't have eaten in…" she opened the refrigerator. "Scratch that, I'm ordering Chinese takeout."

Bruce looked over and winced. The fridge was nearly bare.

"I thought you would also care to note that young Vision is on his floor, and has not left since his return several days ago."

"'Young' Vision?" Natasha repeated, smirking.

"He _is_ technically my offspring." Jarvis said, with a faint parental air.

"Okay, I'll get Tony." Bruce said. "You wanna tackle Vizh? You know him better than I do."

Natasha nodded. "I'll get him on the Common Floor. You do the same with Tony. Jarvis, let me know if he needs backup."

"With pleasure, Miss Romanoff."

Bruce mounted the long staircase that led up to the lab, while Natasha boarded the elevator.

They were back in the States as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, trying not to get arrested. Technically, he didn't have to be here, but Natasha was on a secret goodwill mission to get Christy and Pietro safe to Wakanda, and he didn't feel like letting her go alone. Besides, they had both agreed that Tony was probably not coping well and could use a kick in the rear.

Sure enough, he entered into the familiar lab and found Tony, coated in grease and feverishly tightening something like the world was ending.

"Sir, you ought to look behind you." Jarvis said smoothly.

Tony spun his chair around like a wild man and locked his gaze on Bruce. "Bruce, you're…"

"I'm here." Bruce said, taking a few steps closer.

Tony looked like a wreck. His hair was standing up, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was still sporting several bruises and gashes.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Bruce asked, medical training taking over.

"Uh, yeah…they checked me out at Columbia, when I took Rhodey in…why are you here?"

The honest confusion in Tony's voice made Bruce want to scream.

 _How about because I'm your friend and I care that you're driving yourself into an early grave?!_

"Tony…I care about you. I'm here because I figured…"

"That I'd be a mess, right?" Tony's voice was bitter. "An absolute mess. That's me, Tony Stark, can't get his life together for three seconds without it all going to hell…!"

"Tony!" Bruce's tone was sharp, horribly unusual for him. "Stop it. You're wallowing. You _always_ wallow. It's half the reason we're in this mess."

Tony started to protest, but Bruce pushed on. "Tasha told me about the kid, the Charlie Spencer kid. It's regrettable. It's unfortunate. It _sucks_ that that kid died. But you didn't make him go to Sokovia. That was his choice. You made a mistake with Ultron, yes; but it was my mistake not to stand up to you better. I should have said no, walked out, _anything_. That's on me. We airlifted people out of the city. You sent in a relief team. We _cared_ about what went down. Don't you believe a word of that bull Ross threw at you."

Tony's mouth was near to hanging open. Bruce wasn't exactly the type for long, drawn-out speeches.

"We need boundaries…" he started.

" _You_ need boundaries, Tony. And you went to the wrong man to get 'em."

Tony bowed his head. "I know. It was a mistake to trust Ross. I…" he clenched his fists. "You know, I went to the prison. He's got them all locked up. Clint. Sam. Ant-guy. Wanda…" his voice broke. "I tried to get them out. Had to settle for covert…evidence. Knocked the V outta their A/V. Took pictures. That whole set-up is illegal on every level. And when the dust settles…the world will know how U.S. citizens and one U.S. legal resident were locked up—no trial, no jury, no nothing."

"That's…good." Bruce said firmly. "Really good. Look…" he tried to put on a persuasive air. "Wanna come down and get some food? I think Natasha ordered Chinese…"

"Wait, Natasha's here?" Tony looked around. "Where?"

"She's cajoling Vision down from his room. C'mon, you need to get out of the lab." At that, Bruce helped the billionaire up to his feet and started to lead him down the stairs, when his eye caught sight of a familiar object.

"Is Steve here?" he asked, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't, but hoping to get the story behind why his shield _was_.

"Nope." Tony said, clipped and short. "Steve's off with Barnes—God knows where." he paused. "He killed my parents, y'know. Barnes. During his…psycho-assassin phase. It's the whole reason Zemo did what he did—so we'd be in that damned base and see that tape…" he gave a humorless laugh. "He wanted to tear the Avengers apart. Well, he did. He won."

Anger surged through Bruce, though not enough to arouse the Other Guy, thankfully. Smashing would not help at this point.

"He may have won the battle, but he won't win the war." Bruce said firmly. "The only way he wins is if you let him. It's up to you if you wanna reconcile with the others. It's up to them, too. Not Zemo. You have a choice, Tony."

Tony slumped wearily onto the couch. "I haven't slept since I got back three days ago." He admitted candidly.

Bruce snatched a blanket off the floor and arranged it over Tony with a flourish. "So take a nap."

"I…can't."

Bruce gently grabbed Tony's shoulders and maneuvered him into a lying-down position. "Sleep, Tony. You're human. You need sleep."

Tony finally closed his eyes. "Didn't wanna…sleep while I was alone. Too afraid I'd…wake up alone."

Bruce sighed. "I'm back, Tony. You're not alone. So go to sleep. I'll…be here when you wake up."

* * *

Vision's floor was immaculately kept, as one would expect. The android sat on a small sofa, staring off into space. He jumped when Natasha entered.

"Hello…" he said, confusion in his tone. "What are you…?"

"I'm on a…mission of mercy, if you will." Natasha replied, grinning a little. "And this is stop one. Now, Jarvis told me you've been hiding up here since you've been back. So I'm here to coax you back to the land of the living."

"I don't want to go downstairs, thank you." Vision replied, sounding more like a sulky teenager than his usual self.

Natasha took a deep breath and reminded herself that, all-knowing android though he might be, Vision had the experience of roughly a two year old. And most of that experience involved fighting.

"How are you doing?" she asked. "Are you…do you get nightmares?"

Vision shrugged. "I do not need sleep as humans do, so I do not dream. But I feel…regret. Anger. Sadness. And…something else, worse than sadness. An ache of sorts. Especially when I think of…" his eyes shut. "Wanda." he finished.

Natasha sighed. "Steve's gonna get her out." she murmured. "That's…part two of the goodwill mission. I'm getting the kid, and Pietro, to…where they are. Steve's gonna break everybody else out once the heat dies down."

Vision nodded. "I surmised that Captain Rogers would not abandon them. But I feel terrible that we parted on such bad terms. I…have not even been allowed to go see her."

"Ross…" Natasha hissed. "I knew that guy was bad news when he walked into the base. He's nothing but trouble."

Vision gave a pathetic sigh. "I…I thought that oversight would be a good idea. Had I the knowledge…"

"Oversight isn't a totally bad idea." Natasha encouraged. "But it's a matter of who's handling the oversight. They have to be held accountable by something as well. And it wasn't as though we were just charging off to fight for kicks. We were assembled to oppose threats: threats to safety, threats to humanity—to life."

Vision looked down. "I see that things are much more complicated than I thought."

"That's life. You live and learn. In your case…you've really only just begun." Natasha paused. "If you've got something you want to send Wanda, I can give it to Pietro. He'll see that she gets it."

Vision's demeanor brightened. "I shall prepare something immediately." He got up and grabbed a small notepad and a pen, and then returned to his seat. "If you don't mind…"

Natasha grinned tolerantly and headed for the elevator. "Alright, Lover Boy. I'll give you ten minutes. If you're not down, I'm coming back up."

Vision nodded eagerly and began to compose his letter.

* * *

Returning to the Common Floor, Natasha found that the Chinese she'd ordered had arrived, and Bruce was dishing himself a plate.

"Tony's passed out." he said, gesturing towards the sofa. "And he told me he hadn't slept in three days, so I'll thank you not to wake him up."

"You're welcome." Natasha said, quietly snarky. She shook her head. " _Damn_ him. He thinks he's invincible."

"Or he knows he's not." Bruce countered.

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You saying he's trying to kill himself?"

Bruce shrugged. "Dunno. I just know…he never lets himself process. He always runs. Like maybe if he keeps running, he can leave the past behind, instead of dealing with it."

"'Cause dealing hurts." Natasha added. "So he doesn't do it."

"Yeah…" Bruce sighed. "It's a mess of a mess; this whole deal. And I think I'm gonna stay here for a bit. I think this Tower's big enough to hide in."

Natasha nodded. "That might be smart. I'll head out tomorrow."

A dark, mussed head poked itself up on the couch. "Natasha? Is that your sweet, sultry voice I hear?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Stark, for once in your life, don't be sarcastic and answer me this: when's the last time you ate?"

"What are you, my mother?"

"Since you seem to need one, I suppose I'll do. Now answer."

Tony groaned, caught. "A long time ago."

"Thought so. Here." Natasha handed him the plate she'd dished up for herself. "Eat."

Tony poked listlessly at the food, head hung low.

"Tony." Bruce said. "I care about you. So does Nat, even if you don't wanna believe it. So does Rhodey. And so does _Steve_ ; you know it. We want you to stick around with us. But we can't make you live. You've gotta find your own reasons for living. And I think that's half your problem—you don't think you're worth the effort."

Slowly, Tony lifted his head. "You sure you're not a shrink?"

Bruce smiled sadly. "Remember when I told you about how I got real low, and the Other Guy spit out the bullet?"

"Yeah…"

"He knew I needed to stick around better than I knew myself. So consider me your personal Other Guy." Bruce mimed spitting. "Don't sell yourself short."

Tony gave a melancholy smile and took a bite of food. "Thanks."

At that moment, Vision materialized through the floor. "I have—oh." he stopped short. "Mr. Stark. You're…"

"Out of the lab? A wreck? Look like I haven't bathed in a week?"

Vision just smiled. "It's good to see you down here, sir."

"What'd we say about you callin' me 'sir'? It's too creepy! One Jarvis is enough!"

Natasha shot Bruce a look, and he nodded in understanding.

They all had a long road to travel. But hopefully, at the end of everything, they'd be able to come back together.

He refused to let Zemo win.

* * *

Cooper was in the treehouse when he saw the car wind its way up the gravel road. He'd taken to hiding out there, ever since they got the news.

He was trying to be strong. Mom had enough to deal with, with Lila and Nathaniel, with two extra people in the house, with Dad being gone and _in jail_ …

That last bit made him madder than anything else. His dad was a good man. He helped people for a living and made sure bad guys didn't ruin everything. He didn't deserve to be in jail!

 _He should be home, with us…_

The car, sleek and black, parked in front of the house, and a familiar woman with red hair got out.

"Aunt Tasha!" Cooper howled, barreling down the treehouse ladder. "Aunt Tasha, you're back!"

Natasha turned around just in time to catch the beaming ten year old. "Hey, bud. How's my favorite grown-up nephew?"

She used to be able to say "my favorite nephew" with impunity, but since Nathaniel's birth, she'd had to amend the statement.

Cooper sighed. "I'm okay. I miss Dad."

"I know, kid. I miss him too. Hopefully we'll get him back here before long. Where's everybody else?"

"Inside." Cooper started to walk towards the front door. "I've been up in the treehouse a lot. It's nice being alone sometimes."

Natasha smirked. "With two siblings and two honorary cousins around, I'll bet."

"Yeah…but it's nice sometimes, too. Except when Pietro looks worried or Christy has nightmares. She has them a lot. How come I don't?"

Natasha sighed. "Some people dream more than others…some people have _seen_ more than others. Or they worry too much."

Inside, they found the remaining kids and Pietro. He and Lila were playing what looked to be War, with a battered deck of cards, while Christy sat reading and Nathaniel lay napping in his playpen.

Cooper opened his mouth to announce the arrival of their guest, but Natasha touched her index finger to her lips, and then said calmly: "Well, this is a nice welcome."

Three heads whipped in her direction like magic, and Natasha was quickly swamped in two sets of arms.

"Auntie Nat!"

"Aunt Tasha!'

"Hey, guys." Natasha said, pressing both girls against her. "Missed you." She glanced over their heads at Pietro. "So, Laura's got you babysitting now?"

Pietro smirked as Christy, Lila, and Cooper all protested that they were _not_ babies. "It's no trouble." he said. His face grew more solemn. "It's a good distraction…"

Natasha nodded. "I know. That's part of why I'm here."

"Do you know where Dad and Uncle Bucky are?" Christy asked.

"Yes…I do…"

Just then, Laura came into the room. "Oh, hey! Welcome home!" The two women embraced. "Don't suppose you've got any good news on my scapegrace husband…"

Her tone was light, but Natasha could hear the strain in her voice.

"Steve's gonna get him out. If I know him at all, he's probably got a rescue mission in the works. Only reason he hasn't gone and done it is he's waiting for the heat to die down. Until then…he's alive. That's all I know. Same for the others."

Laura let out a weary sigh. "I wish they would leave him alone. Wanda too. This whole thing just proves that those Accords were bad news. Honestly, locking a twenty-one year old kid up in jail with no trial, no nothing…" she trailed off, her hands balled into fists. "Steve's not to blame himself, though." she added quickly. "Tell him that. He blames himself too much. They all chose this."

"So…this rescue mission…" Pietro began. "Could they use a fast helper?"

Natasha grinned. "Barnes thought you'd want in on that bit."

Lila was frowning. "Auntie Nat, is Uncle Steve gonna break the law?"

Natasha's brow knit as she struggled to come up with a suitable explanation. Christy came to the rescue.

"It's like Robin Hood." she said. "The government already broke their own rules by putting everyone in jail. You're supposed to get a trial and a lawyer and stuff like that. So Dad's just gonna fix what they did wrong. Like Robin Hood."

Lila nodded slowly. "Okay. But…what if he gets caught?"

It was Pietro who came to the rescue this time. "Steve? Hah! He won't get caught. He is too good at…before-planning. Whatever you call it."

"Strategizing." Natasha supplied.

"So…is Dad gonna bring everybody back here?" Christy asked. "'Cause that sounds really dangerous."

"You all will come stateside eventually, I think." Natasha said. "But until then…you two are going somewhere called Wakanda. The king's offered everybody asylum."

Everyone looked completely confused, until Pietro said, "Wait, wait…is he the crazy cat-man with the black suit that thought Bucky killed his father? In the bombing?"

"Yup. And now he's…sorta out to make up for that. He's a good guy." Natasha assured.

"You're gonna stay with a _king_?" Cooper asked, eyes wide.

Christy grinned, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. "I'll skype, promise. And I'll bring you back a souvenir."

Natasha turned to Christy and Pietro. "Okay, you two; go pack up. We'll swing by the base and get whatever else you want, and then we're gone."

Pietro nodded and went off to his room, but Christy lagged back. "Aunt Tasha…when can we come home? I…where even _is_ home?"

Natasha pulled the girl into a hug. "Home is with your family. You're gonna be in a new place, but you're gonna be with your Dad and your Uncles and the twins. It'll be okay. And T'Challa's really sweet, honest. Just don't tell him I said so."

Christy smiled a little. "Okay."

"Honey, you can always call us." Laura stressed. "You're part of the family now. I'm sure your dad will have a safe phone."

Christy nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

"Good." Natasha said. "Now get your gear. There's two people that can't wait to see you."

That was enough to send the girl rushing down the hall.

* * *

Steve was sitting around pretending to read and Bucky was trying to figure out how to sit in a way that accounted for his unbalanced body when T'Challa came into their quarters.

"Captain, I thought you would be interested in knowing that a certain plane has recently landed."

Steve practically _threw_ the book aside and scrambled to his feet. "They're here? Where?"

Bucky ducked his head to hide the massive grin on his face. "Mind helpin' me up, punk?"

"What? Oh, yeah; sorry, pal." Steve helped Bucky up to a standing position. He _could_ walk on his own (he insisted) but he was still very wobbly, since he had yet to get fitted for a new prosthetic, making his center of balance _very_ off-kilter.

T'Challa had allotted all the rogue Avengers an inner wing of his palace (which was nothing like the grand, gaudy affairs one might see in Europe), complete with a kitchen and a Common Area. Now, the three of them headed out into said area.

"Shouldn't you be kissing babies or signing trade agreements, Your Highness?" Bucky said; not completely disrespectful, but with enough snark to carry out the joke.

But T'Challa grinned back; he could handle sarcasm. "No, it is much worse. Now they are trying to get me married."

"So you came here to hide out from suitors." Steve guessed, his own smile blooming.

T'Challa drew himself up proudly. "A king does not 'hide out'. It is my duty to see that my guests are comfortable."

Bucky was just about to contest that statement, when a door swung open and a voice screamed, "Dad!"

Steve quickly moved forward, but Christy was faster. She leaped onto Steve like a monkey and wrapped herself around his chest, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I missed you…" she mumbled into his shirt. "I love you so much…"

Steve, eyes wet, sunk onto the sofa. "Missed you, too…" he said quietly.

Bucky smiled at Pietro and Natasha, who both looked a little stunned. Pietro especially looked like he was craving his own happy reunion.

"'C'mere, kid." he said, stretching out his good arm. "We coulda used you, but I'm glad you stayed back."

Pietro's jaw dropped. "What the…what happened to your _arm_?"

"Tony borrowed it." Bucky joked grimly. "By blasting it off."

Natasha groaned. "I hope Bruce is talking sense back into him. This whole thing was a mess."

"Yeah, well…I'll get a new one soon." Bucky replied.

Pietro suddenly noticed the other person in the room. " _Chto eto?_ " he hissed in Russian, their shared second language.

"The man giving you asylum." Natasha replied, straight-faced. Internally, she was laughing.

"Oh…" Pietro looked a bit taken aback. Then, he stood up and walked over to T'Challa. "Sir…thank you very much for helping us."

"Believe me, it is the least I can do." T'Challa said. He gave Pietro a scrutinizing glance. "You are Pietro Maximoff, yes?"

Pietro nodded.

"Allow me to tell you that your sister is downright terrifying in battle."

Pietro grinned. "Oh, I know. She got all the flashy powers. Me, I got practical stuff. But, hey, if you ever need an errand boy…"

T'Challa raised his eyebrow. "I will…keep that in mind."

Christy, meanwhile, had detached herself from Steve and sat down next to Bucky. "Hey." she said quietly.

"Hey, yourself." Bucky whispered back.

"I heard a bad guy messed with you."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, he…messed with me pretty bad."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not…right now."

Christy nodded. "Okay. Mind if I talk?"

"Nah…" Bucky hugged her close with his arm. "I missed your talk."

"I missed your hugs. And your voice. And you. I was scared they were gonna take you away forever. I love you, Uncle Bucky. You're not evil, no matter what anyone says." she grabbed his good shoulder. "You're _good_. The people that messed with you are bad. Understand?"

Bucky cleared his throat and tried to blink back tears.

"I'll try, kid…for you, I'll try."

* * *

 **So, there's some in-between, "how we got here" stuff. I really like T'Challa; he's a nice balance of cool, composed royalty and "screw the rules, I'm doing what's right". Mixed with some wicked humor. And Tony seriously needs Bruce around, until he learns to handle himself.  
**

 **"Chto eto"- "Who's that" (Russian).**

 **Tune in next time for the long-awaited prison break. Huzzah! Rogue Avengers, and "nobody is happy that Wanda was in a straitjacket". Least of all Pietro... Also included will be T'Challa having a conversation with our favorite eleven year old and alternatives for Bucky (that don't involve cryo!).**

 **Until then...reviews are wonderful things...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, all; back with chapter seven! At last, we get the long awaited prison break. Huzzah, Rogue Avengers! (And huzzah for monster-long chapters!)  
**

 **Also, nerdy language note: the language used for "Wakandan" in the movie is Xhosa (otherwise known as the "click language"). However, T'Challa calls his dad "baba," which is actually NOT "dad" in Xhosa-that would be "utata". "Baba" is _Swahili_ for "dad". So that kinda bugs me. All that to say, any "Wakandan" in this chapter is Xhosa. Translations will be provided like normal.  
**

 **The "song" that Christy sings is a poem that I wrote after watching Civil War the first time.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Prison was officially the most boring place on the planet.

That was Sam's estimation as he paced around his cell for the umpteenth time that…morning? Afternoon? Night? He had no idea. The harsh, florescent lights never dimmed, and there certainly wasn't a clock anywhere in the room. Food was delivered three times a day, but the guards must have been under strict orders not to talk to them, because they never said a word.

Wanda was having the worst time of it. Besides being confined like an inmate at an old-timey insane asylum, she'd also been having nightmares, or flashbacks, or nightmares _involving_ flashbacks-or some combination of all three.

Sam could tell it was killing Clint, to not be able to comfort her. Heck, it was killing him! It was even killing Scott.

A quiet moan told him that Wanda had woken, and not happily. He could barely see into her cell, if he craned his neck.

"Wanda?" Clint called. "Honey, you okay?" His voice _screamed_ "concerned dad" as he strained against the bars. Clint's cell was right next to Wanda's, but given that that cells were arranged in a circle, it didn't give him a much better angle than Sam to see her.

"Not exactly…" Wanda's voice floated across the air, strained. "I had the dream again." It sounded like a sob was stuck in her throat.

Sam gritted his teeth and, not for the first time, cursed General Ross and everyone else who'd thought it was a brilliant idea to restrain the "dangerous" Scarlet Witch.

Wanda, probably egged on by the straitjacket, had started having nightmares about the day her parents had died; about how she and Pietro had been trapped under the rubble of their bombed-out apartment. At first, she had refused to tell them what she was dreaming, but the story had finally come out in one desperate, tear-filled rush.

 _That_ had been a terrible...night? Again, it seemed like time didn't matter in this place. There was just one long haze of artificial light that was nearly soul-killing.

Clint banged his arms against the cell bars, eyes snapping with anger. "Dammit, Stark! Dammit, Ross! If I ever…"

Sam sighed and prepared for another rant from Clint. The normally quiet man was _not_ happy about Wanda's treatment, and it showed.

 _We're all going insane._ he thought. _We are all, **literally** , going insane..._

"Once upon a time in the winter, when snowflakes were falling, there was a queen who sat embroidering at the window. Her embroidery frame was made out of black ebony wood. As she was sewing, she pricked her finger, and blood got onto the white cloth. And she said, 'I wish for a daughter as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony…'"

A dumbfound hush fell over the room, as none other than _Scott Lang_ started reciting a fairy tale.

Perhaps there was something to the insanity theory after all.

"How do you remember all that?" Sam cried.

"Oh, it was Cassie's favorite when she was...three, maybe? I had to read it to her every night." Scott said breezily. "I thought it might help. Y'know, childhood innocence and all."

More silence. Finally, Wanda said, "My mother used to tell us this one."

That was all the encouragement Scott needed. He resumed the tale, "Soon afterwards, the queen had a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony. But soon after the baby was born, the queen died. A year later, the king got married again, to a woman who was very pretty on the outside, but cruel, vain, and insecure on the inside. She was jealous of little Snow White as the girl grew up and became prettier and prettier…"

Sam's pacing slowed as Scott continued through the story. Truth be told, it had been a long time since he'd heard a fairy tale.

He remembered reading once that the fairy tales of old weren't the sanitized affairs associated with Disney movies. They were full of darkness and depravity…but also happy endings.

Perhaps their own bleak tale would have a similar resolution.

He knew that Steve would come for them. It was a fact as certain as sunrise that Steve never abandoned anyone he cared about. It was just a matter of _when_.

So, like when he was a small boy on Christmas morning, waiting for the first rays of the sun to poke through the window, Sam stared into the darkness and waited for the dawn.

"And they all lived happily ever after…"

* * *

"So…we should talk."

Christy looked up from her i-pod and into her dad's earnest-looking face. It was late morning, the day after she and Pietro had arrived in Wakanda.

"Yeah…" she said slowly. "Maybe."

Steve sat down. "Where did we leave off?" he sighed. "It feels like it's been years."

"Aunt Peggy died…" Christy started. "And then Zemo the idiot bombed the embassy dressed like Uncle Bucky…"

Steve almost laughed. "Well, that's one way of putting it. Did I text you before we left for Russia?"

Christy nodded. "I know everybody had a fight in Germany. That's why Sam and Uncle Clint and Wanda and Uncle Scott got locked up. But what happened in Russia?"

Steve gave a long sigh. "Well, we got to the base. Zemo had already hacked his way in. Then, Tony showed up. He'd apparently gotten news that made him put two and two together, that something was up with Zemo, and he wanted to help. I really thought everything was gonna be alright with us. And then…" he trailed off, a look of pain flitting across his face.

"And then what?" Christy prompted.

"Zemo…he was, is, Sokovian. Like the twins. He…I think he lost his family, when Ultron happened. So his brilliant revenge scheme was to get me and Tony at that base, where they kept recordings of Bucky's old missions. One mission…" he took a deep breath. "Do you remember Tony saying that his parents died in a car crash?"

Christy shook her head.

"Well…they did. And, when I tracked down computer-Zola two years ago, at that base, I found out HYDRA was responsible for it. I didn't tell Tony. That was my first mistake. But in all the chaos, I guess it just went out of my head. I'd hoped it had nothing to do with Bucky. But then I found out I was wrong."

"Did he kill them?" Christy asked, quiet and hushed.

"Yeah, baby, he did."

For a long minute, nothing was said. A range of emotions flashed across Christy's face as her brain scrabbled to process that one simple statement.

"But he never knew what he was doing, right?" she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself. "When we first found him, he didn't even know what 'hungry' meant! He couldn't have known! Uncle Tony's gotta know that!"

"I think he does." Steve said gently. "Deep down, he does. But he was angry and not thinking and grieving all over again. I don't blame him for the that. But he…he was too angry. We fought. Hard. It was pretty gruesome."

Christy nodded. "You still got bruises." she reached out and brushed his cheek lightly.

"Yeah, I still got bruises. I…I had to break his suit, to get him to stop. For a minute, I thought I broke him." Steve's voice choked, and he bowed his head. "I thought I killed him. I was so desperate just to get him to stop." He shook his head. "Well, I did."

"It's okay, Daddy…" Christy whispered, leaning into Steve's side.

"No, baby…it's really not."

He had seen the look on Tony's face, when he'd been hammering into the suit with his shield. It had been a mixture of shock and pure terror that left a sick, guilty feeling in his stomach.

"Okay, so it's not okay now." Christy said, hugging him tightly. "But it will be. Later. When everybody calms down and thinks. We…we can't let the bad guy win."

Christy's simple declaration shook Steve to the core.

 _We can't let the bad guy win…_

Something hardened in Steve's chest.

 _Zemo wanted to rip us all apart, destroy the Avengers for good. Well, I won't let him! Like Tasha said, we're all the family we've got. We have issues and egos, but when the chips are down, we're family. Zemo thinks he's won-but I won't let him win._

"No, we can't." he said firmly. "We won't let Zemo win."

Christy gave a sharp nod. "The bad guy always loses, in the end. So…is that why Uncle Bucky lost his arm? And why you don't have your shield?"

Steve started in shock. "How'd you know about the shield?"

"I didn't see it anywhere, so I wondered if you lost it. But then I didn't know why you'd lose it, so I thought I'd ask you about it."

This was the hardest of all to explain. Steve hesitated for a moment.

"When we were leaving the base," he started tiredly, "Tony was still angry. He was screaming about how his dad made my shield, and how I didn't deserve it 'cause I was taking Bucky's side and Bucky…killed Howard…" his voice shook.

"That's not true! You deserve the shield! Uncle Tony was just mad! People say stupid stuff when they're mad."

"Yes, that's true. But I just…in that moment, I thought…" Steve stopped. "This might not make any sense to you, baby."

Christy crossed her arms. "Try me."

Steve laughed a little at her fierce expression. "Okay. Well…in that moment, something just…clicked. The shield is the symbol for Captain America. And Captain America is a symbol of…hope. Justice. Freedom. But me…I'm no symbol. And with the Accords…the government wants me to be their hero. Someone who does what they say is right. And I won't do that. Not because I don't wanna be a hero, but because they haven't shown me that they're worthy of keeping tabs on us superheroes." He sighed. "There's something Peggy told me once…to compromise where you can, and where you can't, don't. Even if everybody else is screaming at you to do something, if you're convinced you're right, with good reason, you have to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell everybody else, 'no, you move.'"

Christy's brow was furrowed adorably. "So you wanna be a hero, but you don't wanna be told what to do by people who don't deserve to tell you what to do."

"Or people who handle power badly." Steve continued. "Like General Ross."

Christy scowled. "Aunt Tasha told me about him. He tried to hurt Uncle Bruce. Why was Uncle Tony listening to _him_?"

"I really don't know, baby. So that's why I left the shield. I just…dropped it. Tony probably has it now."

Christy nodded. "He'll give it back."

Not "maybe". Just "he will," spoken with the certainty of hope.

Steve sighed. "I wish I had your faith."

Christy shrugged. "It's just…Uncle Tony tries to act like he doesn't care, but he really does. That's why I think he'll give the shield back."

"I hope you're right." Steve pulled her into his side. "I really do."

Suddenly, something hit him like a ton of bricks. Quoting Peggy had brought another topic to the forefront of his mind, a topic that really needed to be discussed, ASAP.

"There's something else I need to tell you, Christy. Something pretty important."

Christy nodded. "Okay."

Steve took a fortifying breath. "Do you remember when I was in D.C. and I told you about that lady that lived across the hall from me? And how I was maybe gonna ask her on a date?"

"Uh-huh…wasn't she really a SHIELD agent?"

"Yes, she was, and then she went to work for the CIA after SHIELD fell. I lost track of her for a bit after all that, but…I saw her at the funeral."

"Why? Did she know Aunt Peggy?"

"Yeah, pretty well, actually. She is- _was-_ Peggy's great-niece. Apparently."

Christy had a weird look on her face. "That's…interesting."

"In my defense, I didn't know that when I met her." Steve clarified. "And I already liked her then. Well, we talked after the funeral. And she helped us a lot, when we had to go on the run, after Zemo...after he said those trigger words and made Bucky go back into Winter Soldier mode."

Christy balled her fist. "I _hate_ Zemo. I wish I could punch his stupid face!"

Steve gave a black smirk. "Ya bring your punching bag?"

Christy gave an equally feral grin. "Oh, yeah."

"But anyway." Steve said, steering the conversation back. "I wanted you to know about Sharon because...she's someone I'd like to get to know better. And I want you to be okay with that."

"Does she know about me?"

"Not yet. It…there was never a good time to tell her about you. And, well, it's something best done in person, anyway."

Christy grinned—she took a secret, devious pleasure in springing her existence on her dad's associates.

"But you should like her, baby; I'm sure. She's brave and smart and kind and…"

"…a good kisser…"

Father and daughter jumped as Bucky's voice drifted into the room, followed by the man himself.

Steve turned the shade of an over-ripe tomato. "James Buchanan Barnes!"

His voice was so strong and angry sounding, that Bucky went stock still. Before, in the old days in Brooklyn, he would have just laughed it off. But now…

"S-sorry." he muttered, shrinking in on himself a bit and biting his lip.

Steve instantly went into apology mode. "Nah, I'm sorry, pal; I shouldn't've yelled…"

Bucky sighed and shook himself as he unsteadily sat down. He hadn't felt threatened by Steve in a long time, but everything that had happened lately had seemed to throw him backwards in the recovery process.

"They checked my arm over." he whispered finally. "Should be ready for a new prosthetic soon."

"Good." Steve said, meaning it. "You can stop walkin' around like a drunk."

Bucky smirked slightly at that. There was quiet stillness for a minute or two, a familiar practice that allowed him to get his bearings after any "moments".

"So...what do you mean 'a good kisser'?" Christy asked at last

Bucky's smirk got wider, and before Steve could protest, he said, "She brought him and Bird-man their gear. And then, next thing I know, they're standin' under some bridge in the middle of Germany kissin' like no tomorrow. Didn't know ya had it in ya, Stevie."

"You kissed her?!" Christy cried.

Steve flushed. "It was a _nice_ kiss. Nothing crazy. And, honestly...I dunno. It just kinda happened."

"So you like her?"

"I'm tryin' to figure that out, baby. All I know now is, I wanna get to know her better. And I really hope that's okay with you."

Christy nodded. "It's okay. I trust you. Just promise to listen to me if I say she's trouble." Visions of "Cinderella" were currently dancing through Christy's head. She was sure her dad wasn't going to date someone like the wicked stepmother, but still, the fear lingered.

Steve kissed the top of her head. "I promise. You mean too much to me for me to write you off if something bugs you about her." He shut his eyes and felt the press of Christy's body on his chest.

 _Sweetheart, you're my world._

* * *

Two days later, it was none other than Sharon Carter who called Steve up.

"Steve, hey…can you talk? Are you safe?" her voice was slightly hushed.

Steve moved into his room and shut the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's goin on?"

Sharon took a breath. "I…assume you've been making plans to pull off a rescue, from the Raft."

"Yes…"

"I figured. I also figured…you might need some help."

The offer sent a wave of relief through Steve, but also fear. Sharon was risking a lot, if she was offering what he thought she was offering. "Yeah, help would be...nice."

"Good." Steve could hear the grin in Sharon's voice. "It just so happens that I've been tasked with delivering supplies to said secret government prison. And it should be easy to disable the tracker long enough so no one notices when I make a quick pit stop in…wherever you happen to be."

Steve laughed, honest-to-goodness laughed. "Sharon, that's perfect! That's absolutely perfect!"

"I know the place has guards, but they rely a lot more on technology than actual humans to keep it secure." Sharon continued. "Thankfully, one of the guys we're breaking out has a Masters in engineering."

"Wait, 'we're'? And how'd you know that about Scott?"

"I do my homework. And of course I'm helping! What, did you think I was gonna sit around and let you do all the dirty work?"

"No, no!" Steve assured hurriedly. "It's just, they'll probably recognize you. You'll have to run."

There was a pause, and then the sound of Sharon's sigh. "I know. But I can't keep pretending I'm alright with this. This is wrong, what they've done with those four. Illegal, even. It's time to plant myself down like that tree, once and for all."

Steve smiled. "When's the day of days?"

"Thursday. So, three days. Care to give me some directions?"

"Have you ever heard of a little place called Wakanda?" Steve asked, his smile getting wider.

There was silence on the other end. Then, "T'Challa gave you guys asylum?"

"Yeah, something like that. He was pretty upset that'd he'd been hounding the wrong guy."

Sharon snorted. "'Hound' is a little too kind for what he did. But he did seem like an okay sort. Principled. Self-controlled. All that. So that's where you are?"

"Yeah, in the capital, in the palace." Steve gave a half-laugh. "Me in a palace-who'd 'a thought?"

"Well, frankly I think you deserve a palace." Sharon mumbled.

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Nothing!" Sharon said hastily. "Alright, so I should be able to figure something out. In the meantime, any way I can get a hold of tall, dark, and claws?"

Steve smirked and gave her the number T'Challa had given him. It was the king's private line.

"Okay; fine. I'll…see you then, I guess."

"See you then." Steve echoed.

The line clicked off. For a while, Steve sat quietly, pondering something.

He'd told Christy that he wouldn't let Zemo win. And part of not letting Zemo win was not letting his relationship with Tony fall by the wayside.

He had an extra burner phone. It was 'old' tech—what Sam called a flip-phone.

Sighing, he rooted around until he found a sheet of paper and a pen, and then sat down to compose what he wanted to say.

Nat had heard from Bruce that as soon as Rhodey was discharged from Colombia, Tony would be heading back to the base compound. Something about less stairs making it easier for Rhodey. Whatever the reasoning, Steve was glad. Tony had a small lab at the base, but nowhere near what he had in the Tower. He would have less space to lose himself.

 _Tony,_ he began.

 _I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family._

 _The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine._

A blackly humorous feeling told him that that statement wasn't perhaps as magnanimous as it seemed. Who was really left on Tony's "team," after all? Rhodey, who was out of commission for a bit, and Vision? Spider-kid? Granted, Vizh could pack a wallop, Rhodey was no slouch at full capacity, and the kid was pretty good for his age, but that wasn't exactly a whole lot for a team.

He continued on.

 _I've been on my own since I was eighteen. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't._

 _I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you what I suspected about your parents that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should do. So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us - if you need me - I'll be there._

 _Steve._

It would have to be enough, for now.

* * *

"No, Buck! Just…no!"

Bucky sighed. He'd known that Steve would say that. It was one of the reasons he'd hesitated to bring up the topic in the first place. But a raw, anxious feeling had been growing in his stomach ever since his encounter with Zemo, a feeling that gave voice to all his secret fears.

If he could be controlled just like that, whether with one word, or ten, or twenty, then was he never safe? Never free? What would it take to get all the programming out of his head? It was no longer a question of addressing issues when they came up-the programming made him a danger. It had to be dealt with.

"Look, Steve, I'm a liability…" he tried

"No you're not." Steve said firmly.

"I went on a rampage because of ten little words! Zemo got into one of the most secure places in the world! How do we know something won't happen like that again? I'm _dangerous_ Steve!"

"I agree we need to get that programming out of your head, but Buck, going back under cryo seems a _little_ extreme!"

"It'd only be until they found a solution for getting my head back on straight!"

Pietro sighed wearily as Natasha came back from getting a glass of water. "They still at it?" she asked.

"Like a cat and a dog." Pietro said grumpily. "He is being foolish."

"Who, Barnes?"

"Yes!"

Natasha sat down next to him. "How's your sister?"

"Bored. Having nightmares." Pietro heaved another sigh. "If we don't go soon, I'll go crazy!" he confessed. "I can't stop thinking about her!"

"Two more days." Natasha said encouragingly. "I know it's rough. I can't stop worrying about Clint either, and I'm sure Laura and the kids are hurting worse."

"What's going on?"

Everyone looked over as Christy came into the Common Area. Steve tossed Bucky a look and said, "Your funeral."

Bucky scowled.

"His funeral what?" Christy asked, stepping closer.

Bucky sighed. "Apparently, they have cryofreeze tech here."

Christy looked confused. "Yes?"

"And, I… _casually_ mentioned that, until somebody finds a way to get rid of everything HYDRA put in my head, going back under might be best. So I don't hurt anyone."

Christy stared at him for a good half-minute. "This is a joke, right?" she said finally. "Late April Fools' joke, right? You're not _really_ …" she trailed off. There was no cry of "gotcha!"

"No!" she cried. "No, no, no, no, _no_!"

"Like I said, your funeral." Steve muttered.

"Kid, I knocked over Sharon Carter, had Tasha in a chokehold, pointed a gun at Tony, and probably would have killed your dad, all 'cause some idiot said ten little words. An idiot who managed to break into a secure government agency building. If I wasn't safe _there_ , then who knows what could happen elsewhere?"

Christy still looked _horribly_ unconvinced.

"But we know better now!" Steve said. "We're not…you're not turning yourself in. None of us are leaving you completely alone with people we don't trust ever again. That was a mistake on my part."

Bucky shook his head. "Still. We can't be sure. And you can't protect me all the time, Steve. I know you'll try, but you can't. You know it."

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Pietro's voice broke through the tense haze.

"You are looking for ideas, yes? For how to get rid of programming?"

Everyone stared at him.

"You got one, kid?" Bucky asked, surprise and a tiny measure of desperation in his voice. "I'm kinda up for anything at this point."

"Well," Pietro glanced down. "I can't volunteer it, because the person I am thinking of is not here. But you _do_ know my sister can do things with people's minds? She used it to hurt before. Maybe now she can use it to heal." He smiled a bit. "I think she would like that."

There was dead silence in the room.

"You think Wanda could undo whatever HYDRA did?" Steve questioned.

Pietro shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. But I think she would want to try." He looked at Bucky pointedly. "And I think you should let her, before you choose to become a popsicle."

Bucky hesitated. There were a thousand what-ifs in his mind.

 _But what if she can't or what if I hurt her or hurt Steve or somebody else or what if..._

"It's not a bad idea, Barnes." Natasha encouraged. "I'd take it, if I were you. At least to try."

Bucky finally nodded.

"I'll try it. But if I get dangerous…" he looked at Steve. "Promise me you'll make the call. Sedate me. Freeze me. Whatever. I…I'm tired of waking up and finding out I hurt someone. I'm…I'm _tired."_

He certainly _sounded_ tired. His voice had an old, worn quality; like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Steve nodded, even as his heart screamed "no". "If it comes down to that, I'll make the call." he said quietly.

Bucky nodded again. "That's all I'm askin'. All I want is to know that I'll never hurt anyone again, unless they're comin' after me. That's it! I'm tired of knowing I killed people that I can't remember! I know I wasn't responsible, I know it was HYDRA'S fault, but it doesn't make it hurt any less! And I'm sick of it!"

His eyes were awash with anger and fear and a desperate weariness.

"I know." Steve whispered. "But Buck, cryo won't fix what happened. Cryo won't fix that you're tired, in the long run. It just leaves you where you're at. Dealing with the programming; that's what's gonna help. If you really wanna live, you've gotta face what happened."

Bucky gave a long sigh. He knew Steve was right. Dealing hurt-but dealing with problems was the only way to fix them. Hiding never helped anybody.

"Please don't go into cryo." Christy mumbled, her voice breaking. "I'd miss you too much. Don't leave. I...I need you."

Something like ice water crashed through Bucky, like a jolt that woke him up from the fog in his head.

The kid said she _needed_ him. Needed _him_ , messed up and broken as he was. And though Steve would never say it, Bucky knew he felt the same way.

"You think I should let Wanda inside my head, kid?" he asked. "That's what you were afraid of, first time you two met."

Christy shrugged. "I was scared she'd hurt you. But now I know she wouldn't. I think you should try. Just don't...please." she ducked her head down, sounding close to tears.

 _"For you, kid, I'd handle anything." You told her that. Well, Barnes, were ya lying?_

Bucky straightened up. "I won't do it. Promise, kid. I swear, on my life...whatever it's good for. I'll handle this."

Christy nodded and clutched onto his arm. Steve gave him a grateful look.

 _Here goes nothing..._

* * *

All in all, Sharon thought she was handling everything rather well.

Yes, her aunt had died. That had been sad, and Sharon was still grieving, but Aunt Peggy had lived a long, full life. She had died in her sleep, content. It was something Sharon could deal with.

Then, she'd gotten mixed up with Steve Rogers and everything had gone to hell.

(And then she'd _kissed_ Steve Rogers…)

But despite the insanity of the last fortnight or so, Sharon had managed to keep her cool and keep her head down. She'd been questioned, of course, but she'd managed to cover her tracks.

Now, she was thousands of feet above the Atlantic, flying into a reclusive African nation _completely_ under the radar, about to break a large amount of rules and probably land on the "Most Wanted" list.

Still, Sharon was sure she wasn't panicking nearly as much as she could be. Just a little.

Or a lot.

She took a deep breath. _Easy, Carter. In and out. You'll feel better once you're with Steve. You can do this…_

* * *

Steve told himself he wasn't nervous as he waited for Sharon in the Common Room with Bucky, Natasha, Pietro, and Christy. Not in the slightest.

There was nothing all that scary about introducing your daughter to the woman you…liked. Quite a bit.

Nothing at all.

Right?

Finally, Sharon strode into the room just behind T'Challa. She raised her eyebrows a bit at the small crowd. "Quite the welcoming party." she observed wryly.

Steve stepped forward. "Glad you could make it."

Sharon grinned. "Well, not many people can say they helped Captain America organize a prison break." Her eyes scanned over the room and zeroed in on Christy, the one really unfamiliar face. "Who's this?"

Christy got up to stand beside Steve. Steve breathed out shakily. "This is my daughter."

Sharon's eyebrows raised a bit. "So…you adopted a kid?" she asked, giving what seemed to be the most reasonable explanation.

Christy's face split into her signature grin. "I like her!" she proclaimed.

All the adults laughed.

"Why, baby?" Steve managed.

"'Cause everybody else that finds out about me just goes 'how does Captain America have a kid?' Nobody ever guesses adopted!" She smiled at Sharon. "That means you're smart."

Sharon smiled back. "Well, thank you. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Christy and I'm eleven." she stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you. Dad told me about you."

"Good things, I hope." Sharon said, shaking the offered hand.

"Oh, yeah. He said you were brave and nice. And Uncle Bucky said you were a good kisser."

Both Steve and Sharon blushed at that.

"A few years." Pietro hissed to Bucky. "A few years and I predict…"

Bucky nodded. "Oh, yeah…"

Natasha looked like the cat that ate the canary.

Steve finally shook himself back to reality

"Well, that went…better than I worried. Alright. So. Who's ready to plan a prison break?"

"Me!" Christy exclaimed.

Sharon looked at Steve. "She's coming?"

"No." Steve assured crossly, giving Christy a look.

"Hey, I said I was ready to _plan_ a prison break, not that I was _going_ on the prison break."

"That is a point." T'Challa offered, arms crossed. "Are all of you going?"

Bucky sighed. "Well, I don't suppose I can fight one-armed…"

"No." Steve said and Natasha echoed.

"Fine." Bucky looked at Pietro. "I take it _you're_ going."

Pietro nodded furiously. "My sister is locked up in that place. I am going."

"Pietro…" Steve started. "You don't have to…I mean, you haven't been cited for anything. There're no warrants for your arrest. Your record's clean."

"I know. I was starting to feel left out." Pietro gave Steve a level look. "I am coming."

Steve nodded. "Nat?"

Natasha sighed. "I want to. Obviously. But I'm wondering…somebody has to straddle the line, between you and Tony. I don't know if I should sever things even further."

"The less people we have involved in this, the better." Sharon said. "I don't think it's an indictment on you if you don't come along."

"I agree." Steve added. "This is all voluntary, Nat. If you think you can help with the… 'reconstruction' elsewhere, be my guest."

Natasha nodded. "In that case, I may head back tomorrow. In all the chaos, nobody'll be looking for little old me."

"Right." Steve looked around the room, and then back at Sharon. "Well, you're the one with the helicopter. Got any ideas?"

Sharon smirked. "A couple…"

* * *

Steve, Sharon, and Pietro left about an hour later. It was really now or never for getting everyone out.

T'Challa was unable to participate, for obvious reasons. It would not be good for diplomatic relations if the king of Wakanda was found breaking into an American maximum security prison. But he had made sure the fledgling vigilantes had all the tools needed for such an endeavor.

The Captain had asked only one thing of him while he was gone: make sure my friend and my kid are okay.

It was a request T'Challa had every intention of fulfilling. Hence why he was watching a small blonde girl stand quietly in front of the glass wall that overlooked the jungle.

"It is a very pretty sight, is it not?" he asked quietly.

To his shock, Christy didn't jump. "Yes. It's very nice." she answered carefully, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "I was thinking about how I'd like to go swimming in that waterfall."

T'Challa stepped forward so that he stood parallel to the girl. "You could do that."

Christy turned a little. "Really?"

"Yes. Perhaps when your father returns, he would take you."

"He would…sir. Your Highness. Uh…" Christy turned to him with a sheepish smile. "What am I supposed to call you?"

T'Challa smiled. Now Christy's oddly stilted tone made sense. "What do you call your father's friends?"

"Uncle. Or Aunt. But you're a king."

T'Challa rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Yes, I am a king. But I have plenty of people to call me 'sir' and 'Your Highness'. I don't need another."

Christy nodded sagely. "Like Dad needs people who remember he's Steve Rogers and not Captain America."

T'Challa gave a wry smile. "It seems the burdens of kingship and the burdens of being a hero are not so far removed."

"But what should I call you?" Christy persisted.

"I think you answered that question already."

Christy frowned. "Uncle T'Challa…kind of a mouthful. What's 'uncle' in Wakandan?"

Surprised, and pleased, T'Challa replied. "That would be _umalume_."

"That's even more of a mouthful." Christy muttered, half to herself. "What about 'cousin'?"

" _Umzala_." T'Challa answered, grinning.

" _Umzala_." Christy repeated. " _Umzala, umzala, umzala_. That works. But I'd just say that, otherwise it rhymes and sounds stupid." she grinned self-consciously. " _Umzala_ T'Challa _._ Nah, it's gotta be one or the other." She glanced at him. "It's really okay?"

T'Challa nodded. "Truly. It is fine." He looked down. "I have felt a lack of family recently."

"Oh." Christy moved her arm slowly around T'Challa's waist. "I'm sorry about your dad. I…he looked really nice, on the news."

T'Challa gave a sad smile. "He would have liked you, I think. You and your…family. But I do not think he would have been proud of some of my actions of late. He was not a believer in revenge. But when he died, all I could think was to avenge him. I was so angry…"

Christy frowned. "I…I think I understand. When I hear that somebody hurt people, I wanna hurt them back. But my Uncle Bruce once told me that revenge is a terrible gift to offer people you care about."

"Your uncle is a wise man."

"Yeah. He's really smart. I hope he's okay…he didn't sign the Accords." Christy looked serious. "Thank you for doing this. Hiding us. I hope you don't get in trouble."

T'Challa shook his head. "I would have been in more trouble with my own conscience if I did not aid you. My father taught me that sometimes, it is better to listen to your own conscience, though the whole world moves the other way."

"That's like what Dad said. Like my song…"

T'Challa raised his eyebrow. "You have a song?"

"I…I like music and sometimes I write songs. They're not very good, but…I wrote one earlier, for Dad. About everything that happened."

"Well then." T'Challa folded his arms and smiled. "If you would like a practice audience…"

For a moment, Christy froze like a deer in the headlights. But then, with all the acting skill of someone trained by the Black Widow, she took a deep breath and started to sing:

"I took my stand by the riverside,

Packed my bags, said my goodbyes

Now I live the shadow life

In and out, but in the light

That burns out bright from deep inside

Oh the River of Truth may take your life

But I'll spend my days beside it

I'll raise my head up high and say

No man will ever take me away

If I can't be your hero, then I won't

If I can't be your hero…then I won't…"

She was shaking by the end of the song, her eyes scrunched shut. Slowly, she opened them and looked into T'Challa's face. The king was nodding fast and furious.

"You do very well. Very well indeed. I think your father will like it."

Christy beamed, basking in the praise. "I tried really hard."

"Then your trying was not in vain. It was well written and well sung."

"Thank...what's 'thank-you' in Wakandan?"

T'Challa smiled. "Say _enkosi_."

" _Enkosi_." Christy practiced quietly. Then, louder, she said, " _Enkosi, umzala_."

" _Wamkelekile_ , _omncinci_." T'Challa said back, happiness flooding in his chest.

Perhaps the decision to harbor known fugitive Avengers hadn't been the easiest. Or the most seemingly sane. But T'Challa thought that, maybe, it was for the best, after all.

He was sure his father would have agreed.

* * *

Steve sat against the helicopter wall with Pietro, while Sharon got clearance into the prison.

"Ready?" he murmured.

Pietro gave his signature cocky grin, tinged with a tiny bit of wildness. "Ready." he said.

Mentally, he sent Wanda a message: " _We are coming,_ _ **sestrica**_ _. Get ready."_

Whatever Sharon said worked, because a loud grinding sound accompanied the prison compound as it rose out of the ocean.

"Man, these guys do not mess around…" Sharon said quietly. "Ready, guys?"

The "guys" nodded. "You clear on your bit?" Steve asked.

Sharon nodded. "I see that the supplies get unloaded, you guys sneak in. Once all the guards are unconscious or incapacitated, you guys hightail it outta here with the others and I sound the alarm and call headquarters in _deep_ distress."

The las bit was said with a very heavy layer of sarcasm.

"That's two of you straddling the line." Steve said sadly. He was more than a little concerned for Sharon, even more than for Natasha. A lot could go wrong with their plan.

Sharon just shrugged. "Well, if I get arrested, I suppose you can always break me out. It seemed to be your specialty, during the war."

Steve grinned. "Yeah, I guess it was. I'm a little rusty after seventy-five years, but here goes nothing…"

* * *

Sam thought he was hallucinating at first. Maybe Scott's drumming had finally driven him to the brink of insanity. (Seriously, ever since Clint had given him flak about being in a band during college, Scott had seemed determined to prove that he actually had musical talent.)

But out of the dim lighting, dawn at last broke.

Steve walked up to the cell, almost grinning. Sam shook his head, a smile stretching across his own face. "Took you long enough."

"I had to wait till the heat died down." Steve protested, glancing at the mechanical pad that opened the cell. Using a card he'd swiped from one of the guards, he unlocked the door. As it slid open with a quiet _whoosh_ , Sam exited the cell as fast as humanly possible.

It took Wanda a moment to process what was happening. She had heard Pietro's voice, telling her that 'we' were coming, but her mind had been so loose and floating lately, that it had barely registered. She almost gasped in shock when she saw her brother's beaming face.

"Hey, little sister, you wanna get out...?"

Suddenly, his smile died as he took all of her in.

"What is _this_!" he cried, shaking with suppressed fury. His hands were trembling so badly, he could hardly open the door. "What did they do to you?"

That broke the dam inside her. Wanda started leaking tears like a waterfall.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Pietro asked, as he scooped her up bridal-style.

"I, I didn't want you to worry."

"I worried anyway!"

"It was so long, _brat…_ I almost gave up hope…"

"I know, _sestra,_ I know. I'm here now. I'm here and it will be okay."

Clint made a beeline for the two of them as soon as he was freed. "Hey, hey…" he whispered. Pietro's shoulders were now shaking as well. "It's okay, I got ya, both of ya. Daddy's here…" He kept up a steady stream of comforting words and wrapped both twins in a hug, pouring out all the love he'd been unable to express locked in a cell.

"Oh, God, that's adorable." Scott said, sprinting out of his newly opened cell. "Okay, can we get our gear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure Hank would have my head if I left the suit in government custody."

Steve nodded. "Let's go. Only so long before somebody gets wind of the alarms and starts sniffin' around."

As they made their way cautiously down the hall, Pietro turned to Scott. "Hey, Mr. Electrical Engineer—can you get this _thing_ off my sister?"

Scott looked over the collar and winced. "Yes. But I need the suit, okay?" he looked at Wanda. "Can ya hold on 'till I've got the suit, kid?"

"Yes." Wanda said, a bit of fire returning to her voice. "I can. I am fine…I _will_ be fine, when I am out of this torture device!"

Pietro's jaw clenched.

In short order, they got everyone's clothes and gear. Wanda was finally able to shed the hated straitjacket and Sam was more than happy to find his beloved "bird costume". Clint fingered his arrows lovingly and Scott hugged the suit to his chest, saying: "Old friend, it's good to see ya!"

"Ready?" Steve asked. Everyone nodded.

"Then let's get gone."

* * *

They flew out of the prison, the blaring sound of alarms in the distance. Sharon would soon place a frantic call to headquarters, and Ross would be left shaking his fist, but with no Avengers.

All in all, a good days work.

Steve was flying the helicopter, with Sam sitting co-pilot. Clint was in the back with the twins calling home on a burner phone. Scott had been able to shrink down and undo the collar on Wanda.

"Sooo…" Scott said, leaning forward on the pilot and co-pilot seats. "What's next for our intrepid band of outlaws? Robbing the rich to feed the poor?"

Sam snorted. "Cap, I just ask one favor: never, _ever_ make me bunk with him again. I _refuse_."

"Aw, c'mon, man! I thought I grew on ya!"

"Robin Hood, huh?" Steve asked, grinning. "Christy might agree with you there. She loves those stories. And Clint—no surprise there."

Scott grinned back. "Cassie likes 'em, too. Even wanted to _be_ Robin Hood, for a little bit. My ex wasn't best pleased."

Sam laughed. "I'll bet."

Steve leaned back and gazed out into the open expanse of blue. Robin Hood? Maybe. Or maybe he could just be a normal guy in hiding for a bit. That could work, right?

Still, in his heart of hearts, he knew he could never give up heroing, even if he wasn't formally a part of the Avengers. The official Avengers, at least.

 _"_ _If I see a situation pointed south, I can't just ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."_

 _"_ _No you don't."_

Tony was right. And while Steve didn't know what the future held for him and his "intrepid band of outlaws," he knew there would always be a part of each of them that stood for the "little guy".

That was, after all, what had made them Avengers in the first place. And no government could take that away.

* * *

 **Hope that was all you expected and more! I had fun writing everything.**

 **Most everything gets translated in-story, except for " _Wamkelekile_ , _omncinci,"_ which means "You're welcome, little one" in Xhosa. According to GoogleTranslate.  
**

 **Next update will either be this weekend or later next week, because I start work on Monday and I also have family coming to stay.**

 **Stay posted, and until next time...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello all! Back at last. Sorry for the update lag, but life's been a bit hectic the past few days. I probably stayed up later than I should have getting this chapter done.**

 **This one's a bit of a breather and not as long, after the past couple monster-long chapters. It does feature a guest appearance by everyone's favorite SPIDER MAN, though. (Or 'Spidey', as I lovingly refer to him).**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Bucky glanced down off his bed at Christy, who was sitting against said bed and "reading". According to her, at least.

"You haven't turned a page for ten minutes." he said. "I know you read faster than that."

Christy looked up sheepishly. "I can't concentrate. Besides, I've read this one already."

"There's gotta be a library somewhere around here."

"Oh, there is; I asked T'Challa. But I wanna stay here, in case…y'know…"

Bucky did know. They were both a little on edge, waiting for the return of the "Rogue Avengers" (Christy's name for their splinter group that wasn't so much of a splinter—more of a _log_ ).

He reached over and ruffled Christy's hair. "You're somethin', y'know that, kid? Not everybody that's on first-name terms with the king of a country."

Christy shrugged. "He said he has enough people to call him 'Your Highness'. I guess kings want people they can be themselves with, just like everyone else."

Their conversation was interrupted by a light knock. Christy jumped up and practically threw open the door, revealing none other than the king himself.

"Oh." Christy smiled a little. " _Molo, umzala._ Is my dad back?"

T'Challa gave his signature eyebrow raise as Bucky snorted in laughter. "Don't take this the wrong way, Your Highness, but I think you've been adopted."

"Oh, I know." T'Challa replied. He spoke solemnly, but his eyes were sparking with humor. "And yes, _omncinci_ , your father has returned, along with several others I think you have been missing."

Christy made a loud noise that sounded like a cross between a screech and a kitten's mew. Both men dissolved into quiet convulsions.

"Jeez, kid, break my eardrums, why don't ya…" Bucky muttered, as Christy pranced out into the Common Area. Looking at T'Challa, he added quietly, "No issues? Everything smooth?"

T'Challa nodded. "There were no reported injuries. I think rest may be in order, and time to heal, but that is why you came here."

Bucky grinned sardonically. "Rest, huh? That's not always the easiest for this crew."

T'Challa shook his head. "Fears always show themselves in the dark. Fortunately, the day comes and we prove them false or face them like warriors. We rise." He held out his hand, so Bucky could stand up. Bucky reached out and grabbed it, steadying himself on the nightstand beside his bed. "Speaking of rising," T'Challa continued, "I have spoken with Dr. Okoye. Your prosthetic is near completion. Another half-week or so…"

Bucky groaned a bit. "Great. A metal arm again."

T'Challa reached out and gripped Bucky's good shoulder. "I know. I see the fear in your eyes. But in this place, you are safe." At Bucky's slightly skeptical look, he added, "Do you doubt my security?"

"No…no. Not your security. Not you. I doubt…" Bucky glanced down, unable to finish."

"You doubt yourself." T'Challa finished bluntly. He sighed. "Well, I cannot fix that, but I can tell you why you should not do so until you at last capitulate."

Bucky gave a lopsided half-grin. "Add one more voice to the pile. Maybe yours will make it tip over."

T'Challa laughed softly, but internally, all he could feel was a giant ache, for a man who could not grasp how much he meant to so many.

"You know, when I found Zemo, at the base, he was ready to commit suicide." he said slowly. "I stopped him. I told him 'the living are not done with you yet'. From a much less vengeful place, I would say the same to you." T'Challa's eyes were deadly earnest. "James Buchanan Barnes, the living are not done with you yet. I do not know for what purpose, but that you survived so many years and so many horrors is a miracle. And miracles, in my experience, are not things to be taken lightly."

Bucky looked almost stunned. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you, for that. Just…thanks."

T'Challa gave an answering nod. "You are welcome."

* * *

Christy was on the edge of the couch, waiting for T'Challa to return with everyone from the landing bay. The door to their apartments was left open, so the minute she saw the group, she stood up and started peering at them.

"What's wrong with Wanda?" she asked, concerned. "Pietro's carrying her."

Bucky had managed to stand up as well and looked where Christy was pointing. "I dunno, kid. Maybe he just missed her and felt like holdin' her? You know how close they are."

Christy shook her head. "If she was okay, she would walk." She frowned, but suddenly caught sight of the figure walking beside her dad, and went barreling out the door. " ** _Sam_**!"

Sam's attention was caught just in time to anticipate the impact of the blonde blur hurling itself against him. "Woah! Hey, Christy." he said, wrapping his arms around the girl.

"I missed you." Christy proclaimed. "You're not allowed to get arrested again."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Believe me, it's _not_ an experience I plan on repeating any time soon."

"I second that." Scott chimed in. "Although I've said that before…"

After giving Steve a tight "welcome home" hug, Christy gave Scott the same favor. "Sorry Cassie's not here. Hope I'm a good substitute."

Scott gave a theatrical groan and pretended to fall over. "Argh! No! Help! I'm slain by the power of cuteness!"

Christy giggled, and then pounced on Clint next. "Missed you." she mumbled into his shirt.

Clint sighed. "Missed you more, kid." _Missed you and your insane amount of optimism…could've used a dose of it locked up in that hellhole._

Lastly, she rounded on Pietro and Wanda, the latter of who was now unsteadily on her feet. Christy gave Wanda a careful hug, before saying, "I'm glad you're back; now who do I need to punch?"

Wanda grinned weakly. "Nobody, _mače_ , I promise…"

"Just your Secretary of State." Pietro muttered, almost growling.

Christy frowned like she was actually considering the idea. "Dad, can I punch General…"

"No." Steve said firmly. "Put him on your punching bag that I assume you brought with you."

Christy sighed with fake-exhaustion. "I've got a lot of updating to do."

"Do I _want_ to know…?" Scott asked quietly.

Sam snorted. "She has a punching bag that's custom-made, almost like a computer. It projects images onto the bag so you can punch 'em. Very helpful for therapy."

Scott nodded slowly. "O- _kay_ …you people are insane…"

"Hey, _I'm_ the normal one. Me and Hawk-boy. The rest, yeah, they've completely lost their marbles."

The merry gang trooped into the new Common Area and flopped exhaustedly down onto the array of couches and chairs.

"So what's the deal?" Clint asked. "Are we just…stickin' around here forever, or what?"

Steve shrugged a bit. "Some of us should stay here for longer…honestly, from how I see it, you can make your own call, Clint. Same for you, Scott. You think anyone's gonna be raring to hunt you down?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Well, considering people seem to be unable to remember who I am, I think I should be pretty safe. And Hank's no friend of Stark, or the government. He'd totally hide me in his spooky-a…butt! I meant butt. His spooky-butt house."

Christy dissolved into a fit of giggles. Everyone else looked torn between humor and confusion.

"Alright." Steve said. "Clint?"

Clint shrugged. "Don't know why anyone would be terribly interested in little old me. And my place is sorta off the records. I suppose I can head back as soon as the fire and brimstone news reports all die down."

"And for either of you, if there is any trouble, you can always contact the Wakandan embassy." T'Challa said. "I have given orders that all of you are to be assisted, no matter what your government may have to say in the matter. Discretely, of course."

Scott glanced over at Sam with a look of shock, while Christy asked, "Is that allowed?"

T'Challa looked indifferent. "I _am_ a king."

"And _that's_ why we don't have one." Christy echoed softly.

"Okay, okay." Steve said, attempting to get back order. "Maybe another week and a half, two weeks for you two. Sam? Pietro? Wanda?"

"They will want me." Wanda said softly. "If I am not abusing your hospitality…" she glanced at T'Challa.

"You are abusing nothing, Miss Maximoff; the pleasure is all mine." T'Challa replied sincerely.

Wanda gave a small smile, still not used to strangers treating her kindly; especially after her ordeal of the last couple weeks. "Then I should like to stay here for as long as possible."

"I stay with my sister." Pietro said; blunt, but not harsh.

Sam grinned and jerked his head at Steve. "I go where he goes; just slower. Someone's gotta make sure you guys sleep and eat and stop beating yourselves up for every imagined failing."

His tone was light enough, but his words were deadly serious.

"You don't have to stick around with us." Bucky said quietly.

Sam gave him a level look. "I _want_ to."

And that was that.

"Six in; two out." Steve said, looking at T'Challa. "This is really okay?"

"Captain." T'Challa said firmly. "All day long, I am reminded that I am a king, and not just _any_ king. My country has long been in the shadows, but it has served as a haven for people in the past. So many at once is different, but certainly nothing that cannot be handled. Wakanda was always better for having foreign residents. You and your… _entourage_ will be no trouble."

"See?" Sam said. "Now listen to his royal Catness and cut with the 'I'm a burden' shtick."

Steve gave a half-hearted glare.

"Oh, and to clear the record…" T'Challa looked at Sam. "I do enjoy cats, but I prefer the undomesticated kind. And," he looked over at Clint. "it is a pleasure to meet you, Clint Barton."

Sam rolled his eyes. Clint smirked and muttered, "Well, he does have some manners."

Scott looked sideways at Steve. "So if you're Robin Hood, does that mean this is Sherwood Forest?"

Steve gave Scott a long-suffering look. Clint snarked, "Yeah, Sherwood Forest, complete with a waterfall." But Christy looked ecstatic.

"Yes! Dad's Robin Hood so that makes Uncle Bucky Little John and Sam…"

"You've set her off now, Lang." Sam said jokingly. But in truth, he didn't care. He was out of prison, breathing free air, safe with a group he trusted like family. Even Cat-boy seemed to be pretty alright.

Maybe this place would finally give them the rest and recuperation time they all desperately needed.

At least, he hoped that would be the case.

* * *

Bucky was finally able to talk to Wanda alone after about two days in Wakanda-enough time for Pietro to stop fussing over her so much.

He found her in the small kitchen, making something on the stove.

"What's that?" he asked.

She turned around and smiled. "Paprikash. Of sorts. They do not have all the right ingredients here, but I wanted something that tasted like home."

Bucky nodded; he could understand that. "So…how have you been? Pietro told me…"

"My brother exaggerates." Wanda said; equal parts fond and exasperated.

"Dunno how much he had to exaggerate; the bare facts are terrible enough." Bucky argued softly. "He said they put you in a straitjacket and put a collar 'round your neck, to dull your powers."

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Wanda asked, "And what of it?"

"Well, I'm sorry." Bucky said, as though it was obvious.

"You didn't do it to me."

"No, but I know how it feels to be treated like danger incarnate. And you don't deserve it."

Wanda glanced down. Bucky reached over and pushed her chin up gently. "I mean it. I don't care if you crashed Rumlow through a building. You weren't aiming to cause problems, it was a battle, and there were casualties. _Unfortunate_ casualties. But that's war. You're no danger, Wanda."

Breathing out slowly, Wanda looked into Bucky's face. "Pietro told me about his idea. To see if my powers could undo whatever HYDRA did in your head."

Now it was Bucky's turn to stare at the floor. "And?"

"I will try. But I would need to practice on someone less… _volatile_ , first. I do not have much practice working with a mind for benevolent reasons."

Bucky nodded. "Sounds fair. I mean, you don't really know what your powers are capable of, do you?"

Wanda shook her head. "No. And that scares me." she admitted. "There are parts of me that I don't know. I am alone." She smiled shyly. "But maybe not. I think maybe for all the places I could be, I am in the best one."

Bucky shrugged. "Well, I'd say so; but of course, I'm biased."

Wanda laughed, long and carefree, and Bucky felt a twinge of satisfaction. Wanda had been through hell and back, she deserved to let her hair down a little.

"Does Christy know about this plan?" she asked finally.

"What? Oh, yeah; trust me, we talked. Now that she actually knows you, she's totally fine. That first night was a fluke. Complete fluke."

"Not a fluke. Perhaps an...establishing moment. A lesson. I learned never to mess with you, or with Steve. Not that I wanted to by that point, but…it was a good lesson." Wanda grinned a bit. "She will be terrifying when she is grown."

Bucky grinned back. "Oh yeah. Terrifying. Tasha's training mixed with Steve's legendary stubbornness and Sam's better tendencies makes for a potent combination."

"And your heart." Wanda added.

"My _what_?"

"Your heart. You care for people. You ask what they are thinking or feeling, or help them if they are upset. She gets that from you. If I had to guess, I would say Steve learned it from you as well."

Bucky looked thunderstruck. "Maybe I was like that, once upon a time. Before everything. But now? Now I'm just a danger, a threat…"

Wanda made an exasperated noise. "Men! They are like children. Didn't you _just_ tell me I wasn't a danger?"

"Well, yeah, but you never…"

"Did you want to kill people?"

"No!"

"Were you captured and tortured and forced to do things you did not wish?"

"Yes." Bucky said, his voice much softer.

"Then you're no danger. Anything else…it isn't _you_. And that is what I hope to do—get everything that is not you out of you! Understand?"

Wanda's eyes were blazing like dark coal in a fire, her face as animated as Bucky had ever seen.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked finally. "I mean, I get that your brother asked you, but…you don't have to. I really don't know what my mind'll be like, but I can guess it's not pretty. I've done awful things. Why would you wanna waste your time with all that?"

Wanda took a deep, slow breath.

"For me, this will help hone my powers." she started. "The more I practice, the more I learn what I can do, the more I can control them. I grew up in a war zone and have been in fights since. I know what death and war and blood look like. And it will not be a waste of time, because _you_ are not a waste of time. End of discussion." she looked almost smug. "That is my case."

Bucky shrugged, sensing that he was beat. "Good case."

"When would you like to start?"

Bucky breathed out, trying to think. "I get my arm soon. I would almost like to do this before I get a new arm, but…"

"This will not be easy." Wanda said bluntly. "Or quick. Seventy years of programming will not disappear in a week. Do you want to walk around like a drunkard for months on end?"

"No, not really. So, soon after I get the arm. That'll be in about another week."

Wanda nodded. "We can start soon after then. In the meantime, I should find willing people to practice on." She looked despairing at the thought.

"Try Steve. Or, crazy as this sounds, the kid. Might be good for both of you. She was sayin' the other day that she can't remember how her mom's voice sounded anymore. Maybe…"

Wanda looked a little bit hopeful at the prospect of using her powers for something good and helpful. "Maybe."

"And, y'know…thanks." Bucky looked solemn. "Thank you for doing this. Like you said, it probably won't be easy."

Wand just shrugged. "What good thing ever is? But, we are in… _exile._ What else do we have to do with our lives?"

Bucky groaned. "Oh, let's not go there. One day at a time, if you please!" He tried to sound humorous, but there was an undercurrent of bitter sorrow to his words.

Wanda touched his arm gently. "Our lives were stolen; yours and mine. Now, we both have another chance. I don't know what you wanted to do in your own time, after the war. But now you can find out." She gave a sad smile. "And so can I."

Nodding slowly, Bucky let Wanda's words sink into him like medicine, fortifying him for the days ahead.

 _By all rights, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive. But I am. I guess I better not waste it._

Perhaps, out of the ashes of everything, hope could still rise.

* * *

 _"_ _In other news, a breakout has occurred from a secure government facility where the rogue members of the Avengers were being held. Speculation holds Captain Steve Rogers responsible for the act, although he may have had accomplices. Secretary Ross has released a statement saying that the escapees will be apprehended as soon as possible…"_

"Har-har-har…" Natasha mumbled under her breath, from her seat at the kitchen bar counter. "In your dreams, Ross."

Tony craned his head back. "Watch it, Romanoff. If you're gonna straddle the line, you're gonna have to keep your secret double-agent routine a little more secret."

Rhodey, safely positioned in a Lay-Z-Boy chair, snorted. "C'mon, Tony; you put the guy on hold to watch the flashing phone button. I'm not thinkin' there's any lost love between you two."

"And…what about you?" Bruce asked cautiously. Since being discharged from Columbia, Rhodey had more-or-less accepted the fact that there was no getting rid of him or Natasha, unless danger really came knocking. Plus, he appreciated the extra help keeping Tony out of his funk. But Bruce wasn't sure what the man's views were, after all the mess.

Rhodey sighed. "I still think the Accords are not a bad idea. We need some kinda accountability. But Ross…"

"General Ross illegally locked up three United States citizens and one legal resident without a trial or sufficient charges." Vision said heatedly, much more heatedly than one would expect from an Android.

"You're just mad 'cause he put Wanda in a straitjacket and a power-zapping collar." Rhodey replied.

"And that's not sufficient reason to be mad?" Tony shot out, his eyes dark and angry. "I'd say locking a twenty-one year old kid up like a dangerous lunatic is sufficient reason to be mad!"

"Of course it's a reason to be mad, but you've gotta look at it from their point of view! All they see are her powers, which, frankly, are pretty dangerous…"

Rhodey glanced around. Nobody seemed terribly convinced by his impassioned logic.

"Is anybody _actually_ on our team anymore?" he cried.

The room was dead silent. Tony avoided his eye.

"Oh, come on! You know we need accountability; everybody needs accountability!"

"Yeah, but to _who_?" Natasha replied. "People who play fast and loose with their own rules?"

"No one is perfect…"

"Uh…guys? Th-there's…I don't understand."

Everyone's heads whipped over to where Peter Parker sat, looking very much like he wanted to disappear.

"I just…had a few…questions. About all this." He looked down, embarrassed.

"Shoot, kid." Tony said, more gently than normal.

"Uh, okay. Um…what'd you mean 'illegally locked up three U.S. citizens and one legal resident'?"

Rhodey glared over at Tony. "Why, Tony? Why'd you have to drag a kid int'a this mess?"

"I'm sixteen! I'm not a kid!" Peter protested.

"Kid, you're not old enough to smoke, vote, or _get drafted_ legally!" The last was said with a particular look at Tony. "Let alone have been involved in all this."

Tony held up his hands. "In my defense, I didn't know he was still in high school when I saw the videos on YouTube! It's a little hard to tell age under that suit!"

"Yeah, but you _went to his house_ , right? You shoulda known then!"

"By then it was too late!"

Bruce gave a long sigh and crooked his hand in Peter's direction. "Psst. Peter. C'mere. They'll be at it for a bit. I'll answer your questions."

"And I'll help." Natasha added. "Vizh, want in?"

"If I can be of assistance." Vision replied.

Peter looked about nervously. Mr. Stark had asked if he wanted to come see the Avengers HQ this weekend. Aunt May still thought he was doing something connected to the grant. He'd been bowled over by the spectacular amount of tech in the place, as expected.

What he hadn't expected was to find not only Black Widow, but also _Dr. Bruce Banner_ (aka: the guy everyone had been looking for since last May) here. Or to be in the middle of a re-hash of the past couple weeks.

He felt like he'd been plopped down in front of test on information he'd never seen before. Or thrown into the deep end of the Y's pool.

"For your first question," Natasha said, "We fought a bunch of people in Germany. Two got away, four didn't. Where did you think they went?"

Peter felt ashamed to say he hadn't thought much at all about where their opponents had gone. He'd been too busy nursing bruises, geeking out about fighting with _Iron Man_ and _War Machine_ and _Black Widow_ , and planning a good cover story for Aunt May.

"I…I guess I just thought they'd get taken care of."

Bruce gave a rather inelegant snort. "Well, they did. 'Taking care' of people; that's Ross' specialty."

"They were taken to a secure prison known as the Raft." Vision explicated. "Falcon, Hawkeye, and Ant-Man were confined in decently normal cells. Wanda…Scarlet Witch, was confined as we stated previously."

"In a straitjacket and a…power-zapping collar?" Peter confirmed.

Vision nodded, looking angry.

"Well, she made her choice, didn't she? I mean, I'm sorry she got locked up like that, and bein' in a straitjacket doesn't sound fun, but…wasn't that the consequence of choosing Cap's side?"

Bruce sighed. "Yes and no. It was a consequence, but it was a poorly-handled punishment for something that wasn't wrong."

"They were under the impression that the UN bomber, Zemo, was headed to Siberia to resuscitate five super-soldiers more or less the same caliber as Steve or Bucky—the Winter Soldier." Natasha added. "That's where they were headed. _Unfortunately_ , in a grand case of nobody listening to anybody, we had a battle instead of a discussion."

Peter was starting to feel like he was back in the deep end. "So…why was everyone fighting again?"

"Did Tony not explain _anything_ to you?" Bruce asked, exasperated.

"No, no; he did! He said we were goin' after Captain America because he was protecting a fugitive, and we needed to bring 'em in."

"Tony! Did you seriously call Barnes a fugitive?" Bruce said, fighting down the Other Guy, who was stirring awake. _Not right now, buddy. No threat. Just a major annoying headache…_

Tony had the grace to look sheepish. "I was a little stressed and under pressure! Besides, he technically was."

"He turned himself in and you damned well know it, Stark." Natasha said tiredly. "And then the Joint Terrorism Task Force dropped the ball off a cliff by letting a hostile threat in to question him…I'd like to strangle whoever was running clearance."

Peter's eyes were growing wider by the second. "So…so if the Winter Soldier didn't bomb the UN, why'd he turn himself in?"

"So they'd start looking for the guy who did." Bruce answered.

"Oh…I guess that makes sense. But what started everything in the first place? The Accords? What do they even say?"

Bruce gave Tony another 'seriously?' look.

"Oh c'mon, don't tell me _you_ sat there and read 'em cover to cover?" Tony protested.

"Yeah, I did; Tasha got me a copy. You mean _you_ didn't?"

"Only one that did was Rogers, and he _didn't_ approve." Natasha muttered. "Makes ya think."

"I skim read it." Rhodey asserted.

Vision looked mildly put out and turned to Peter. "I believe you asked what the Accords said, not who read them?"

"Yeah…"

"Put simply, the Accords state that the Avengers will no longer be a private organization, but will be run by a United Nations panel and be answerable to said panel. They will not act of their own volition."

"Oh." Peter looked thoughtful. "Well, when ya put it like that…jeez." His head drooped. "I don't think I picked the right side."

Vision shook his head. "I don't believe there were any true sides in this matter. Simply differing opinions on how to deal with what I have learned is the inevitable fallout of war."

Peter leaned closer to the Android. "I…I go patrol around Queens, where I live. Look for troublemakers, stop accidents, help old ladies cross the street. Y'know. You think these Accords, these government people…they'd stop me?"

Vision frowned. "I am uncertain. But I do know they would not want you roaming about 'unsupervised,' so to speak."

Peter frowned back. "Maybe I…" he ran a hand through his hair. "I need to think about all this."

"I had to as well, Mr. Parker. There is no shame in processing."

"Uh, it's Peter."

"Pardon?"

"Peter. Th-that's my name. Mr. Parker sounds…sounds like my dad. Or like I'm in trouble."

Vision nodded and gave what he hoped was a friendly smile. "Peter, then. I will try to remember. Did you have any other questions?"

Peter looked speculative, and then asked, "Are we gonna go after them? The guys that broke out? Can they make us?"

Vision got Tony's attention and repeated the question.

"No." Tony's voice sounded strong, like a line drawn in the sand. "Ross wants to make as little a splash as possible. He won't want us charging around. We tend to make a splash."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, kid…" Tony changed the subject. "Wanna look at the new enhancement I came up with for your webbing design?"

"Uh, uh…y-yeah, sure thing, Mr. Stark."

At that, the genius and his new protégé left to enter the world of scientific discovery.

"I can't believe we got a kid into this." Rhodey muttered.

"Perhaps he will surprise us all." Vision replied.

Rhodey looked a bit floored, but eventually nodded. "Maybe."

Bruce just gave Natasha a secret smile. He had a feeling that Peter Parker was going to do just fine.

 _We need some heart around here, to breathe life back into us old cynics._

 _And I think we found it._

* * *

"Hey, Steve?"

"Mhmh?" Steve replied, glancing over at Bucky. It was just the two of them in the Common Area for once, being that it was later at night and most everyone was in their own rooms.

"I…I had something on my coat, on the sleeve. Before. It was…" he screwed his brow, concentrating. "It was wings, silver wings."

"Like the ones on my helmet." Steve grinned, remembering. "You said they were your regimental insignia and told everyone to get some."

"They didn't. Bunch 'a punks." Bucky growled fondly. "But I… they were on my left. And if I get a new arm…"

He paused and bit his lip, trying to screw up his courage enough to ask his question.

Steve could fill in the blanks by this point. But he waited anyway. "Yeah?"

"I…I wanna get 'em. On my shoulder. You won't be mad if I get rid of the shield?"

"No! 'Course not, pal! Besides, those wings will be a lot less ostentatious than my shield. And didn't T'Challa say they're making it to look like a more natural prosthetic? You can just say the wings are a tattoo."

Bucky's heart was pounding. He was getting his wings back. _His_ wings. Sure, they'd been on Steve's helmet, but the patch had been his idea, in the war days.

These were his. All his.

 _They stole my wings and gave me a star._ He thought dimly. _Now I'll take 'em back. Good riddance, HYDRA._

A new mark for a new chance.

And a symbol of freedom, maybe more than the shield.

He would have his wings back now, in more ways than one.

* * *

 **Much as I love the idea of Bucky having Steve's shield on his arm, this makes me even happier. So I threw it in.  
**

 **Peter Parker is an adorable dorky puppy and I love him. Poor baby, having to deal with all these crazy people!**

 **So...someone asked me once upon a time if I would ever consider shipping Bucky with Wanda. At the time, I said no. Now...all bets are off. Take of that what you will. Wanda's twenty-one at this point and Bucky is (physically) around twenty-nine or thirty. So nothing creepy.**

 **Next update will happen soon but not super soon. I've started work and also have my niece and nephew staying with us for the next two weeks. Both these things cut into my writing energy. But there will be an update! Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello all; I at last return! The past week has been awesome but insane, and this chapter required QUIET to hash some things out (something I didn't have much of last weekend...). And then I got sick, which helped nothing. (Just a cold/fever/thing-you-pick-up-when-working-with-kids.) But I finally finished!**

 **This chapter has a quite a bit of set-up for what Bucky's "unconditioning" will consist of, although his actual sessions will be shown in the coming chapters, not this one. Basically, since we don't really know from MCU canon just _what_ Wanda's powers are capable of doing, mentally speaking, I'm mostly making this up as I go along and doing what seems semi-logical. (Of course, none of this is really logical, so...).**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Bucky sat in the private infirmary on a hospital cot, adrenaline thumping through his body. Today was the day he got his replacement prosthetic.

To say he _wasn't_ relieved would be a lie—the past couple weeks had been murder on his center of gravity and made walking a chore—but nervousness was still clawing around in the dark parts of his mind.

 _With this thing, I could hurt Steve, or Christy, or Sam, or Wanda, or…_

"Mr. Barnes?" a voice asked gently.

Bucky snapped out of his mental funk enough to register the newcomer as Dr. Okoye, the man T'Challa had asked to develop his new arm. "Yes, sir?"

The doctor smiled a bit. "Are you ready?"

Bucky sighed. Steve, sitting close (as if he would miss _this_ ), nodded. "He's ready."

Giving a return nod, Dr. Okoye opened up a medium-sized metal case, and drew out the new prosthetic. "I thought you might like to see it, before it is attached to your body."

Bucky _stared_.

The arm…actually looked like an arm. It was painted in a flesh tone that very closely matched his skin, even with tiny replica hair follicles. Best of all was the shoulder part, which contained, as requested, his silver wings.

"It looks so… _normal_." he whispered finally.

"It is strong." Dr. Okoye replied. "Made of vibranium. Should you ever wish to spar with His Majesty again, you will be able to hold your own." There was a faint twinkle in the doctor's eye. "But it is lighter than your old one was, so it will take you time to get used to the weight. Aside from that…when His Majesty approached me to take on this project, he told me the arm was for a man who had been a soldier far too long, and was now looking for peace. I designed it with that in mind."

Bucky nodded, praying that he didn't start bawling here and now. "Well…what'cha waitin' for, Doc? Might as well get it on me, before anything else goes wrong."

Pessimistic words aside, though, Bucky's heart felt infinitely lighter. This wasn't the arm of a killing machine. This was the arm of a man who had suffered tragedy and emerged stronger.

Steve was surreptitiously glancing up and pulling at the skin near his eyes. Bucky smirked as the techs started to prepare him for surgery. "You gonna lose it on me, punk?"

Steve shook his head. "Dunno what you mean, jerk." he said, attempting a cocky tone and failing miserably. He ditched the act and added, "I'm so happy for ya, pal. It looks great."

Bucky nodded. "I know. Like a normal human being's arm. Not some crazy cyborg." He lay back on the cot and took a deep breath. "You stayin' for this?"

Steve looked almost incensed. "Yes! Of course I am!"

"It's not gonna be a quick surgery." Bucky warned.

"Yeah, I know. But I kinda missed the first one—thought I'd be around for the second and make it up t'ya."

The words were joking, but Steve's tone was doing that borderline guilt thing that Bucky hated.

"It wasn't your fault." he insisted. "We've been over this. Multiple times. It was outta your hands."

Steve nodded jerkily. "I'm still stayin'."

Bucky shut his eyes and grinned. "Hope you brought a _Readers Digest_ , pal."

Steve grinned back. "Jerk…" he mumbled, before sitting back and pulling out his _tablet_ (modern tech did have its uses) and settling in to watch the proceedings.

* * *

Clint shouldered his duffel and glanced at Scott. "You ready for this, Lang?"

Scott nodded back. "Oh, oh, yeah; totally ready. Not nervous at all, nope. Not even thinkin' about TSA…"

"TSA?" Clint snorted. "Tasha's pickin' us up, ya idiot. TSA is for suckers."

Scott's eyes bugged comically. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?

"Nah…it was fun watchin' ya squirm."

The havoc and upheaval caused by the Raft prison break had finally died down enough that Scott and Clint had deemed it safe to head for their respective homes. Everyone was hanging around the landing bay to see the two of them off except Bucky, who was still recovering from surgery.

"Be good, you two." Steve joked. "I don't want any reports about a rogue archer or a man no one can see."

"Nope, I'm heading back to the homestead and _not leaving_." Clint stressed. "Ring me up when you all are headed stateside, though. I might be able to hook you up with something."

Steve glanced down. "I've brought enough trouble down on you and your family…"

Clint gave an enormous eye roll and said, "Cap, to quote the immortal words of Nick Fury… 'Trouble...trouble always comes 'round.' I think we can handle anything at this point. And, Laura would skin you alive if she heard you talking like that."

Steve nodded, assenting to the point.

"Start expanding your house, then." Sam said, laughing. "Never know when we might crash in."

Steve handed Scott an envelope. "This is for your ex-wife, and her fiancée. In case they give you any headaches about all this."

Scott turned the item over in his hands. "What…is it?

"Call it a character reference. And an explanation."

Scott shook his head in wonder. "Thanks, man!" he cried, beaming. He tackled Steve in a hug, before the man could process what was happening. "No wonder you're Captain America!"

Clint, meanwhile, was talking with the twins. "Be good, alright? Call once a week; Laura will wanna hear from ya."

Pietro grinned. "Sure. _Laura_."

Clint gave Pietro a friendly shoulder punch, and then tipped Wanda's chin up. "Good luck." he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "If anyone can do it, you can."

Wanda nodded. "I'll try."

"That's my girl."

Christy hugged Scott and said, "That's for Cassie. And you, but mostly Cassie. Tell her I miss her and I'll bring her back something from Wakanda."

Scott gave a salute. "Can do, Mini-Cap. And skype when you can, alright."

"I will. Be good, Uncle Scott."

Scott sighed. "Seriously, why does everyone act like I'm a flight risk?"

"Because you're impulsive." Sam snarked, giving the man his own handclasp. "Stay classy, tic-tac."

"Back at'cha…feathers?"

"No." Sam replied, face like stone.

"Thought not."

Clint swooped Christy up after finishing with the twins. "Love ya, kid. Be good, huh?"

"I'm always good." Christy said, grinning a little. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah; I know. Skype us, alright? Save my sanity from being drowned by a thousand questions about how you're doing."

Christy nodded. "I will. Tell Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel that I'll be back sorta soon. And that I miss them."

"Will do, kid."

* * *

A day later, Natasha touched down in a very familiar field in Upstate New York. "I'll be back in a day or so." she said to Clint. "I might bring Bruce around for a visit."

Clint nodded. "Sure, sure; the more the merrier. Try not to kill your passenger."

"I'm not that annoying!" Scott protested. "See ya, man." he added, more sincerely.

"Hey, you need anything, call." Clint said, just as serious. "You're one of us now."

A slightly giddy look appeared on Scott's face, but he quickly quashed it. "Thanks."

"No problem. See you then, Tasha."

At that, Clint got out of the plane and started his walk up the long gravel driveway. He'd barely made it halfway before he was assaulted by two whirling dervishes known as Lila and Cooper.

"DAD!"

Clint laughed and wrapped his kids in a hug. "Hey, sweetheart! Hey, bud! Miss me?"

"Duh!" Cooper cried vehemently. "Can we do target practice after you sleep?"

"Not until he sees my drawing!" Lila insisted.

"Alright, alright; make some room! Lady with a baby coming through." Came Laura's voice, along with Nathaniel's squeal of "Dada!" She marched right up to Clint and locked lips with him for a very long moment.

"I'm proud of you." she said first, when they broke away.

Clint shrugged modestly. "Somebody had to do it."

Laura's face grew serious and her voice took a level in sternness. "But you are never allowed to scare me like that again, _is that clear_?"

Clint sighed and leaned in for another kiss. "Yes, ma'am…"

It was good to be home.

* * *

Scott walked up to the door of Maggie and Paxton's house, clutching the envelope Steve had given him like a lifeline.

 _Call it a character reference. And an explanation._

With Hank and Hope, there had been no trouble. There was no lost love between Hank Pym and anyone named Stark, so he had accepted Scott's story right away. And Hope was mostly just happy that he was safe. (Well, he'd gathered that was what she was trying to express by her rant about his complete idiocy.)

Cassie, of course, would just be happy to see Daddy. But for all intents and purposes (thanks to the news) it looked like Scott Lang had gone back to crime. That wouldn't exactly endear him to Maggie, let alone Paxton

 _Please don't kick me out…_ Scott thought. _I can explain…I can explain everything! Captain America needed my help!_

 _At least let me see her once…_

He rang the doorbell with shaking hands. He'd deliberately chosen a time that Paxton wasn't on duty, figuring he might as well bite the bullet and get this over with.

The door swung open, revealing Paxton on the other side.

"Oh…" he said, brow furrowed. "You're back."

"Y-yeah, I'm back." Scott stuttered. "Listen, Paxton, I can explain…"

Paxton casually leaned out the door and checked up and down the street. "Get in." he said, flicking his hand towards the house.

Stunned, Scott complied. "You're not kicking me out?"

Paxton looked mildly peeved. "I'm not completely heartless, Lang. Cassie's been goin' nuts asking when you'd be home. Also…" he glanced down, seeming almost _embarrassed_ , "The last time I didn't listen to you, a maniac got into my house and threatened my—our—daughter. I figured I'd give you five minutes to explain things this time."

Scott breathed out slowly. "Thank you…you won't regret it, I swear. It doesn't seem like they've linked my name with the Ant-Man persona yet, and…oh, yeah! This is for you." he handed over the envelope. "And Maggie."

Paxton opened the envelope and scanned the letter inside. His eyebrows shot up. "You got a…a _character_ _reference_ from _Captain America_?"

"Ah…yup. He's… _that_ kind of guy."

"Scott? Is that you?" Came Maggie's voice from the kitchen. It was immediately followed by a loud scream of "Daddy!" as Cassie barreled her way into the living room and crashed into him.

"Peanut!" Scott cried, swinging Cassie up on his shoulder. "I missed you."

"Missed you more." Cassie mumbled. "Did you go fight bad guys?"

Scott sighed, and set Cassie down. "It was a little more complicated than that, peanut. The bad guy…he wasn't tryin' to hurt everybody. Just the Avengers. He had a grudge, see?"

"So who did you actually fight?" Maggie asked, crossing her arms. "They showed on the news some battle at an airport in…Germany?"

"Yeah, Leipzig. Uh…I kinda fought Iron Man. And War Machine. And Black Widow. It was a real mess."

"And…then you got arrested." Maggie clarified.

Scott nodded.

Paxton shook his head. "Arrested on what charge?"

"Uh…they never exactly told us. They just sorta shut us up in some floating, supermax ocean prison."

"Because they got mixed up about what's good and what's bad." Cassie chimed in. "Pietro told me that. On Skype. He said you weren't confused this time."

Scott hugged his daughter closer and made a mental note to thank Pietro, somehow. "That hug's from Christy." he added. "She says she misses you and she'll bring you something next time she sees you."

"So where _are_ they?" Maggie asked, her "mom side" kicking in. She'd only seen Christy over Skype, but the thought of a child caught up in adult squabbles made her uneasy. "At least tell me that poor girl isn't in some godforsaken hole in the ground on the run…"

Scott almost laughed, picturing T'Challa's palace. "Nah, she's safe. Takin' everything as well as could be expected. They're not in a hole in the ground, but that's about all I can tell you."

"Can she call me?" Cassie wanted to know.

"Yup, she can, peanut."

"Alright." Paxton leaned in. "I said I'd give you five minutes. Now _what the heck_ has been going on?"

Scott sat back and sighed. "So apparently…"

* * *

A day or so after Clint and Scott's departure, the remaining Rogue Avengers (plus Christy) were sitting around the Common Area when the subject of Bucky's "unconditioning" was brought up.

"Okay," Sam said to Wanda. "Are you and Barnes gonna start this whole 'get the HYDRA programming out of his head or so help me' deal soon?"

Swallowing a smile at the description, Wanda nodded. "Yes. Only…" she looked away. "I haven't exactly been in anyone's mind recently. I…I need to practice."

It was a logical enough request...from a certain point of view. But it wasn't exactly the most conventional of requests, and she felt embarrassed for asking it.

"So…you need a guinea pig." Sam clarified, brow furrowed.

"A what?"

"A test subject." Steve elaborated.

Wanda looked uncomfortable. "That sounds harsh."

"She needs someone to practice on whose brain isn't as screwed up as mine." Bucky summarized. "Someone less volatile."

"You could try it on me." Pietro offered.

Wanda shook her head. "I know you too well."

"What exactly are you trying to do?" Steve asked. "Are you trying to undo a memory, or correct it, or…?"

"I don't know!" Wanda said, looking agitated. "I…when I…before…"

She trailed off and bit her lip.

"When you screwed around in all our heads." Steve said bluntly. "You're forgiven, you know it. Continue."

Wanda swallowed. "I worked with emotion. I traced emotion. Mostly fear and regret. Any memory protected by something else…I did not touch. Could not." She gave Steve a weak grin. "That is why I had no idea about Christy until I came to the Tower. I couldn't see her in your head."

Christy looked thunderstruck. "You couldn't see me?"

Wanda shrugged. "It must have been you. I could hear a child's voice, but I could see nothing. I was driven away."

Christy nodded, impressed. "Well, I mean, it kinda makes sense. Dad would keep me safe any other way. Makes sense he'd do it in his head."

"I did not see Bucky, either." Wanda continued. "I couldn't reach those memories. If I could have…well, perhaps it is just as well I couldn't."

Steve nodded tightly. Wanda had basically shown them all their worst fears or worst regrets, and it didn't take a genius to know what _his_ worst regret was.

"I think you could practice on me."

All five adults turned to stare at Christy.

"Excuse me, is this the same kid that punched someone because that person could possibly get inside her head?" Sam asked, shocked.

Christy huffed and crossed her arms. "Jeez! I wish you'd stop bringing that up! I said I was sorry! Aren't people allowed to change?"

"'Course they are, doll." Bucky soothed. "S'just…it was a little bit of a shock that you offered."

Christy shrugged. "You said she needed somebody less volatile. That's like violent, right?"

"Close." Steve said. "But more like 'unstably violent'."

"Oh. Well, I'm not unstably violent. At least, I don't think I am." Christy looked at Wanda. "Can you help me make a memory stronger?"

Wanda looked solemn. "I can try."

"Okay. 'Cause, it's just…I'm starting to forget stuff from when I was little, and I don't want to. And…I wanna help Uncle Bucky."

Wanda looked at Steve. "She's your child."

Steve looked speculative. "Try it on me, first. That would give you memories more-or-less similar to what's in Bucky's head. If it works, you can do what she's asking. But not before."

Wanda nodded. "That's fair. More than fair."

"I think I have an idea, for how to help you out in locating the programming in my head." Bucky added, taking something out from inside his jacket.

Steve glanced at the item sharply. "Is that what Zemo…?"

"Yeah. T'Challa got it back, and then gave it to me. It's got the words." Bucky scoffed harshly. "The jerk bookmarked the page and everything."

He handed the thin volume over to Wanda, who flipped it open to the correct page. She read over the words silently, shaking her head.

"You read them in order?" she asked.

Buck shrugged glumly. "I guess. They didn't exactly consult me."

"So what do these words _say_?" Sam questioned, looking over Wanda's shoulder. "I don't read Cyrillic. Or speak Russian."

"Don't read them out loud!" Pietro warned.

Wanda looked slightly annoyed. "I'm not an idiot! Christy, get me a piece of paper and a pen."

Christy scrambled off and returned quickly with the requested items. Wanda bent over the book and started to translate and transcribe the words into English, mouthing the Russian words silently (and out of order).

"One, nine, seventeen; those are easy…" she mused.

"What would numbers have to do with anything?" Pietro asked.

"It could just be a random string of words they conditioned him to respond to." Sam responded. "Probably doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe." Steve said. "Or maybe not. You were born in _1917_ , Buck."

Bucky nodded, looking tense.

"Longing, rusted, dawn…? No, daybreak." Wanda continued, writing each word carefully in English. "Kind? No, no; benign."

"Benign? Rusted?" Sam repeated, looking skeptical. "You wanna tell me those have some weird hidden meaning?"

"Okay, those are pretty well out of left field." Steve admitted.

"Furnace. And then…" Wanda frowned. "This one is like…look, Pietro."

Pietro glanced at the book. "Homecoming?"

"Yes. But also like…I can't think of the English word. To…make someone in a different country?"

"Relocation?" Sam tried.

"Almost…"

"Repatriation." Steve said grimly. He'd gotten savvy and turned to the internet on his tablet. "Now _that_ could have some meaning."

"What's repatriation mean?" Christy asked.

"It means sending somebody back to their country of origin." Sam said.

"Well they didn't do that!" Christy protested. "They _stole_ him from his country of origin!" She frowned. "I need to upload Zemo's face onto my punching bag."

"Wasn't Zemo that picked the words." Bucky said.

"Eh, he'll work for a stand-in."

That was enough to make everyone laugh a little, despite the situation.

"Last is…freight wagon?" Wanda finished.

There was silence for a moment.

"Freight car." Steve said heavily, anger in his voice. " _Freight car_."

"They would." Bucky muttered.

"What is so wrong…?" Pietro started.

"I fell off a train." Bucky cut in. "Off a train car. Freight car. Whatever."

More silence. Then, Christy summed up everyone's thoughts with one quiet utterance:

"Stupid HYDRA."

That broke the ice. Bucky looked back at Wanda. "So, I don't know if saying them in Russian, maybe one at a time…maybe it could help you locate whatever triggers the reaction in my brain."

Wanda nodded slowly. "I don't see why not. That would probably work well."

Sam shook his head a bit. They had the beginnings of a plan, but still no structure, which he deemed sort of important for an undertaking like this. "I don't doubt your abilities, Wanda, or your heart…but this whole thing still seems pretty off the wall."

"It's never been done before, sure." Pietro said, springing to his sister's defense. "But that doesn't mean bad. Just different, yes? Like we are different."

Sam nodded, acquiescing to that. "Yeah…I'd say we're pretty different, all right."

"We're Avengers." Christy said, shrugging. "We do everything different."

* * *

Minds, Wanda (re)-discovered, were fascinating places.

The first "trial run" session with Steve went fairly well. They sat in his room with the door cracked slightly, while His Highness King T'Challa played Sam in a battle royale chess match in the Common Area, with Bucky and Pietro watching and Christy pretending to. (She lost interest quickly.)

Wanda took a shuddery breath and pulsed the red tendrils through her fingers.

"Hey." Steve said quietly. "It's alright. I trust you."

Wanda looked up with a weak smile. "Last time I was in there," she pointed at Steve's head, "I did not behave myself."

"Well, I'm sure you will now." Steve replied. "You've changed a lot since then."

"I…I think so."

"I know so." Steve nodded firmly. "How about we keep this low-key to start? You're looking at memories, right?"

Wanda nodded.

"I'll show you some highlights…come on in."

And that, _that_ was the part that was different. Before, she had shoved her way in, an uninvited threat. Now…

She pushed forward mentally and found herself observing a city street, lined with tall, broken-looking buildings and some streetlamps. It was an overcast, wintry afternoon.

 _"_ _Aww, look at the little crybaby! Ya gonna tell yer Ma on us?"_

 _"_ _Leave her alone!"_

Like a laser, Wanda was drawn to the scene—three bullying, swaggering boys, a tiny girl, and an only slightly less tiny blond boy.

 _"_ _Aw, and what are you gonna do, Rogers? Cough on us? G'wan; scram!"_

 _"_ _I_ _ **said**_ _leave her alone!"_

One of the boys reached out and shoved the smaller boy, who Wanda had no trouble identifying as little Steve.

 _They said he was tiny, but_ _ **Bože moj**_ _…_

 _"_ _Fine! We'll leave her alone. One dumb brat's as good as another!"_

Another shove. Steve was now in a heap on the ground. The girl had hightailed it down the street.

The boys took their turns with kicks and punches and Steve, though scrappy and fighting back, didn't stand a chance. Wanda began to feel irrationally afraid that he would die.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the girl reappeared, half-dragging a bigger boy behind her. Wanda, shocked, recognized the figure as none other than Bucky Barnes.

 _"_ _Hey! Get lost! You're so brave; pickin' on a shrimp half your size!"_

When it became clear the other boys didn't care a bit, Bucky jumped into the fray. Even the little girl got into the act, pulling coats and trying to trip up the bullies.

Finally, the three boys decided it was not worth their while to keep getting pounded on, and made a break for it. Little Bucky reached down and gave Steve a hand up.

 _"_ _They're all real losers, and chicken, too…but what'd ya gotta go fight three boys twice your size for, anyway?"_

Steve pinched his nose in an attempt to stop it bleeding. _"'Cause they were messin' with her!"_ he said, pointing to the girl.

 _"_ _That's my sister Becca."_ Bucky said slowly. _"Thanks for stickin' up for her. I'm James Barnes, but nobody calls me James, 'cept Ma when she's mad. My friends call me Bucky."_

Steve cocked his head. _"Am I your friend?"_

 _"_ _Sure! Why not? What's your name?"_

 _"_ _Steve Rogers…"_

The memory tapered off and Wanda backed out mentally for a moment, to look Steve in the face. His eyes were full of bittersweet happiness.

"Did you have a _death wish_?" she asked, voice full of astonishment.

Steve shrugged. "They were messin' with Becca, when she didn't do nothin' to them." he replied, his accent a bit more pronounced. "I don't like bullies. Didn't then; don't now. But…" he hesitated. "I let you see that one for a reason. That was the first time, but not the last, that Bucky hauled me out of a scrape. Do you understand now…?" his voice trailed off.

 _Do you understand now why I'm willing to go so far to get him back? Why I opposed 117 nations who wanted him turned in? Why I'm so protective?_

"I understand." Wanda said gently. "I have memories like that; me and Pietro. You and him…the world moved on. You have each other to remember your old life, and that is all. You do not have to justify yourself to me."

Steve nodded gratefully. "I…I got some more…"

An hour later, Wanda was _convinced_ that Steve must have had some sort of a death wish, or simply didn't rate his own personal safety as anything particularly important. That seemed to be where Bucky filled in the gap.

But besides figuring that out, she now had a much better grasp on Steve Rogers the man, as opposed to bright, shining Captain America. There were hints of that persona in Steve's actual personality, but the real man was flawed with stubbornness, anger, loneliness, and, above all, a desperate thirst to prove his worth. Conversely, his very real virtues of kindness, honesty, and belief in people's potential shone out all the brighter.

Finally, Wanda felt brave enough to try something.

"I…I want to ask you something." she said hesitantly.

"Shoot." Steve replied.

"Let me see the train."

There was silence.

"Wh-what train?" Steve stuttered out.

Wanda shook her head. "You know what train, Steve. May I see?"

Steve swallowed, his Adam's apple jerking. "Uh…"

"I will see worse with Bucky." she said firmly. "I will not push. But I think I can help."

More silence.

At last, Steve nodded. "Come." he said, barely audible.

Wanda pushed her way in gently, and was immediately blindsided by swirling snow and freezing cold and the sound of a train moving very fast.

 _"_ _Bucky! Hold on!"_

Steve climbed across the front of the train car, inching over to where Bucky hung from the car's side, clutching at a metal bar.

 _"_ _Grab my hand!"_

The bar jerked. And then it broke, sending Bucky tumbling into the icy depths below.

 _"_ _Ahhhhh!"_

Bucky howled, his screams echoing, and suddenly, Wanda felt a backlash of anger and grief and guilt.

Every memory had an aura; a sense of the feelings that were associated with said memory. That was how she had located the Avengers' memories before.

And the guilt associated with this memory was suffocating and raw.

 _No!_ Wanda thought, and she pushed back against the tide of emotion. _Look! Look at the distance! You were too far apart! The train was slick! It was unfortunate, but_ _ **not your fault**_ _!_

It was more than a pep talk. She could feel her power pulse, repelling the oppressive aura of the memory.

Along with the aura always came words; sentences. Beliefs that were unconsciously imbibed, based on what had occurred. And Wanda could hear them now.

 _WORTHLESSstupidIDIOTcouldn'tstopitcouldn'tstopitSTOPITSTOPITcomebackcomebackcomebackBUCKY! FAILUREFAILUREFAILURE!_

 _STOP!_ Wanda gave another mental shove. _You are not a failure! You are not! You are NOT!_

The last word was thought-spoken at what would have been a scream. For a long moment, the heavy aura remained. This was years of lies and emotion that Steve had been carrying, after all.

But she kept speaking the truth. And at last, the aura lightened. There was still grief and anger, but the guilt was a thousand times mitigated.

She backed out mentally and found herself staring into Steve's shocked eyes.

"What…what did you _do_?" he whispered. "It's… _lighter_."

"I pushed back…" Wanda murmured. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. "I think I need to sleep for a year."

Immediately solicitous, Steve nodded. "This, this was fine. Good practice?"

"For me…yes. I think so. For you?"

Steve blinked…and then gave another slow nod. "I don't know what you did…but I can think about it now, and not feel so…beat down. Like a failure."

Wanda smiled. A response like that was well worth her mental tiredness. "I think you are one of the bravest people I know. I'm…I'm proud to call you my friend."

Steve accepted the compliment with his trademark play-it-off style. "I didn't do nothing that a lot of others wouldn't have as well. I've made my mistakes…"

"And _kept going_." Wanda finished. "Always, you keep going. For that, you are different than 'a lot of others'. You don't give up." She looked him straight in the eye. "And you are no failure. I don't know who told you that, but they were lying."

Steve gave a quick breath, in and out. "Thanks."

"I mean it." Wanda said, sensing that that belief was tied into more memories than the one she had seen.

 _I cannot fix all of them…but I can speak the truth until at last the lies break._

As gut-wrenching as that memory had been, though, she knew that whatever was connected to Bucky's trigger words would be worse.

"Could I practice again?" she asked. "Later?"

Steve nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Christy sat bolt upright on the couch, her eyes scrunched shut and her legs crossed. "So…what do I do?"

Wanda couldn't help but smile. "Think of a memory. Any memory. This is just practice for me, navigating a mind."

"Okay…" Christy paused. "Got it."

"May I see?" Wanda asked.

"Uh…yeah. Sure. Come in."

Steve was sitting a few feet away, watching the proceedings. He couldn't help but feel immensely proud of his girl. She had come a long way in regards to her opinion on Wanda's powers.

Like before, Wanda pushed her way into Christy's mind, gentle as she could manage. Also like before, she was immediately enveloped in the memory, like a distant observer.

 _"_ _Christy? Where are you, angel?"_

A tall, blonde woman with familiar blue eyes and facial features walked around a couch in a tiny apartment.

 _"_ _Now, where could she be? Where's my Christy? Could she be in the…closet?!"_

The woman spun to the right and threw open the door, revealing Christy, who looked about four or five years old, crouched under the hanging coats of the closet.

 _"_ _Mommy!"_ Little Christy squealed.

 _"_ _There she is!"_

 _"_ _You found me!"_

The woman grabbed Christy and picked her up. _"Of course I did! I'll always find you. Now, how about you come help me make dinner?"_

 _"_ _Okay! Can we make spaghetti?"_

 _"_ _Sure!"_

Wanda was aware that she was physically smiling at all the cuteness. The aura surrounding the memory was good and happy, but the sound and color was faded, like an old movie.

 _Can I fix_ _ **this**_ _…?_

 _I have to try._

Red tendrils swirled through the memory.

 _Come back…come_ _ **back**_ _._ Wanda willed. _Be strengthened. Don't fade away…_

Suddenly, Christy gasped. "Mommy…" she whispered.

The colors of the memory were clearer now, the edges of the mental picture less fuzzy. Wanda backed out.

"Better?" she asked.

Christy nodded, but she bit her lip. "Mom…I remember now. She sounded so beautiful. I miss her. I miss having a _mom_." Her eyes squeezed shut and tears leaked out.

Steve, looking crushed, opened his mouth to speak, but Wanda shook her head. She pulled Christy up against her chest and whispered:

"I can't be her, and I will not try. But come to me…if the missing is too much. Ask me about anything, and I will tell you. Understand?"

"Yeah." Christy said quietly. "And…thanks. However you did it."

Steve quietly mouthed his own thank-you as Wanda rocked Christy back and forth. "No problem, _mače_." She smiled a bit. "No problem at all."

* * *

At last, it was the day of days. At his own insistence, Bucky was strapped down securely (but not harshly) in an oversized, plush black chair, located in a side room of the clinic. Even going one word at a time, he was still nervous. Wanda and Steve sat across from him.

The other insistence Bucky had made was that Steve and only Steve be the one to read the words. Steve had practiced with the twins for at least two hours, getting the pronunciation down right.

"Ready?" Steve asked quietly.

Bucky took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be." He turned his head slightly, catching sight of the wings on his arm. The gleaming silver image gave him courage.

 _This is good. This will help. I can do this..._

"Hey, she's the best in the business." Steve assured, squeezing Wanda's shoulder. " _You_ ready?" he asked her.

Wanda nodded, and started to let the glowing red tendrils flow through her fingers.

"As soon as he says the word, go." Bucky told her, looking tense.

Wanda nodded again. "I will. We can begin?"

Steve glanced down at the word, written phonetically with English letters. "I'm gonna say it."

 _Here goes nothing…_

" _Zhelanye…_ "

* * *

 **I know, I know CLIFFHANGER. But I have to keep you guys reading somehow ;) Besides, that felt like the best place to end the chapter. I think I've figured out that when I try to shove too many things into one chapter, I get bogged down. But you will see the "unconditioning" sessions, probably starting next chapter. If not, then the chapter after that.  
**

 **Tune in next time for Father's Day cuteness and feels! Since I haven't shown a lot of holidays lately, I wanted to do this one in the ChristyVerse. In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello, all! Sorry for the wait, but I've been a little bit under the weather. In case you were curious, working with second graders five hours a day is not the most conducive environment for getting over a sore throat...fortunately I have a long weekend.**

 **I jumped back to the land of monster-long chapters, but I kept getting ideas and they flowed naturally, so it worked out okay. I've also decided that Peter Parker is officially one of my favorite characters to write. Can't wait to write him meeting Christy...**

 **This picks up right after the cliffhanger from last chapter.**

* * *

Chapter Ten

" _Zhelanye…_ "

The word tripped from Steve's lips, steady and sure. (He had practiced hard to master the pronunciation.) The effect it produced outwardly on Bucky was mild. He twitched slightly and gave a little moan. Wanda dived into his mind, like she had promised.

His relatively calm exterior belied the mess internally.

Wanda was hit with a strong sense of disorientation and panic. The scene before her was of a dim room with familiar, threatening-looking equipment. A metal examining table sat in one corner, and a bookshelf held several file folders. Otherwise, the room was stark.

 _HYDRA…I would know this sort of place anywhere…_

Bucky was sitting in some sort of metal chair in the middle of the room, heavily restrained by leather straps. His hair was long and messy, his skin was pale, and he looked far too skinny for comfort. But the worst part was his eyes, which looked nearly catatonic with fatigue and bewilderment.

There were two men, both wearing the white lab coats that HYDRA "doctors" seemed to favor. One was tall, with dark hair and a thin face. The other was a short, squat man with glasses and a face like a toad.

 _"_ _Are you quite sure the treatment was successful, Doctor?"_ the tall man asked. _"It seems that you have taken a rather big risk…"_

The toad-man waved his hand dismissively. _"Yes, yes; I assure you that my treatment was successful! I had already experimented on this man before. He has serum in him near enough to the kind the Americans developed. And besides, their great hope is now drowned in the sea. Ours…"_ he gave a sickly-looking grin. _"Ours yet lives."_

He walked over and stood in front of Bucky, who blinked curiously, but otherwise didn't move. _"You fought me greatly the last time we met,_ _ **Soldat**_ _. But, I think you have learned to listen, no?"_

The man's words triggered a greater wave of panic and worry and fear.

 _"_ _Please…"_ Bucky said, his voice low and rough. _"Where am I? I can't…"_

Instantly, the doctor slapped him across the face. _"You will not speak unless addressed!"_ The sickly grin returned. _"It is all a part of your treatment. You will not remember anything that would distract you from your mission. You may wish for these memories to return, at first, but the longing will fade with time."_

 _Longing…_ _ **Zhelanye**_...

The word suddenly filled the memory like a bad odor. The aura swirling about was one of desperation.

 _Ican'trememberICAN'TREMEMBERIwantIwantIwantIwannaknowwhereIamwhoIampleasehelpmeIcan'tremember…_

Wanda had wondered before why the order of the words was so important. Now she could see that this first word, at least, was the "foundation" on which all the others stood. Bucky was disoriented, confused, and longing to know what was going on. HYDRA could take advantage of him in this state, and the other words would "fill in the blanks".

She grit her teeth and set to work.

 _Be still!_ she cried, giving an enormous mental shove. _Be still and think! You remember! You will **always** remember. Remember your friend! His name is Steve Rogers and he will bring you back at the end of all this._

The overt confusion seemed to abate, but something else, something dark and malevolent, clouded the memory and tried to push her back.

Anger shot through Wanda. _NO!_ she yelled mentally. _YOU WILL NOT HAVE HIM!_

Swirls of red flew as Wanda called upon every happy memory she had seen in Steve's head, every good thing Bucky had experienced in the past two years that she'd been around for, and used it to shove back the darkness.

 _This is who you are! This is where you belong! Not in fear and chaos and longing without answers, but **safe** with those who care for you!_

It took time, longer than it had taken with Steve, but at last, the terror and disorientation and panic gave way to another set of emotions: grief and anger.

 _Yes._ Wanda thought comfortingly. _This is good. You recognize that this happened. You are angry that you were treated so poorly and grieved that you lost your memory. But don't stay in this place. Remember what you have come out of and where you are going. You are_ _ **winning**_ _._

 _This was not the end, and it never will be._

Finally, when she felt the aura was stable enough, she backed out.

Bucky was covered in sweat and breathing heavy. Steve looked in about the same shape.

Wanda decided to take a risk.

" _Zhelanye._ " she said quietly.

There was no twitching reaction like before. Bucky gave her a tired smile.

"It's different. All I feel is…" he shrugged. "Angry. Upset. But not like before. Not confused."

Wanda nodded, relief filling her body. "Good." She frowned, remembering something from the memory, something that had upset her greatly. "He hit you."

Steve was instantly on alert. "Who hit him? When?"

"It's in the memory, punk." Bucky said, sighing. "It happened a long time ago."

"Who?" Steve pressed, unwilling to give this up.

"A man with a face like a toad." Wanda spat out.

Steve furrowed his brow…and then his face split in anger. " _Zola_ …" he growled, a wild light in his eye. "That son of a…what'd he hit ya for?!"

Bucky shrugged. "I said something outta turn."

"' _You will not speak unless addressed'_ " Wanda quoted, mimicking Zola's heavy accent (on top of her own lighter one).

Steve looked nearly ready to murder someone, until suddenly, his eyes gleamed with an idea. "Interrupt me." he said to Bucky.

"Whaddaya mean…?" Bucky started, but Steve seemingly ignored him and turned to Wanda.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked, probably out of genuine concern, but there was a look in his face that read "play along".

Wanda took the bait. "More tired than with you. There was…pushback from the programming. That didn't happen with you, obviously, so that made it more exhausting."

Bucky took a deep breath. _Now_ he knew what Steve had meant. He was supposed to cut into the conversation. He had done it without fear, in the old days. But now…

 _You know he won't hit you._ He urged himself. _You know he won't. You saw the look on his face when he heard what Zola did. He'll never hurt you. Just_ _ **say**_ _something,_ _ **anything**_ _!_

Finally, he managed to stutter out "H-hey…" in a whisper. But neither Steve nor Wanda reacted.

He growled internally. _'Show no mercy,' huh, punk?_ Screwing up every last ounce of courage, he tried again. "H-hey, Steve!"

That did it. They both stopped talking and Steve grinned at him like Christmas had come early. "Yeah, Buck? You got something to say?"

Bucky grinned back weakly. "Can I sleep now?"

"Are you tired?" Steve asked, brow furrowing.

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, tired, but less…I dunno. Less _something_. Something I didn't even know I was."

Steve clapped his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you, pal."

As the three of them exited the room, Bucky turned to Wanda. "Thanks. For what you said."

Wanda smiled. "Which part?"

"The…the 'you can't have him' part. Woulda been nice to have had you around, back then."

Wanda bit her lip. "I'm just sorry I ever joined them in the first place. If I had known…" she shook her head. "But how could we have known?"

"You couldn't have." Bucky assured. "They lied to you and Pietro. They acted all decent and then turned out to be evil incarnate. Well, that's what evil always does, anyway."

"Yes…I suppose you are right." Wanda sighed. "I really wasn't kidding about the sleep. Mental wars are tiring."

Bucky looked a little guilty. "Sorry my brain's so exhausting."

Wanda frowned and stopped walking. "You don't apologize for anything!" she cried. "You didn't mess up your own head! I am glad to do this, now stop feeling guilty!"

Steve was pantomiming a handclap in the background. Wanda's face was so stubborn that all Bucky could do was smile a little and say, "Yes, ma'am."

Wanda gave a sharp nod. "Good. And don't forget it!"

Bucky breathed out slowly as they walked into their quarters.

 _I'll try…if you keep reminding me I'm worth it, I may just believe it eventually…_

* * *

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Nicholas J. Fury did _not_ appreciate people messing with his Avengers.

On the outside, he kept up a cool, calm, collected demeanor which gave off the impression that he didn't care about anything.

In reality, it was just that he didn't care about _everything_. But there were some things (or people) that turned him into a rather impressive Papa Wolf. The right buttons just had to be pushed.

And with this whole affair, the buttons hadn't just been _pushed_ —they'd been run over roughshod with a semi-truck.

Fury had enjoyed the dubious pleasure of meeting General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross a few times. The last time had involved some gentle persuasion on his part in convincing the good general to _leave Bruce Banner alone, thank you_.

Now, it was about to be a case of _leave all my Avengers alone, thank you._

With a man like Ross, all one needed was the right leverage. For a man of his political stature, public opinion was everything. And the general had some rather impressive skeletons in his closet that Fury was positive were supposed to remain buried.

It would be a shame if they were to be… _revealed._

Blackmail was an ugly tactic, sure, but Fury had done worse, under worse circumstances, for causes and people far less deserving.

He knew that Clint, Natasha, and Bruce were back in the States, along with Mr. Scott Lang the Ant-Man. And although all of them probably knew how to blend in and hide, he refused to let them live like fugitives because of a crime-that-wasn't-a-crime.

Heaving a long, drawn-out sigh, Fury adjusted his special tie-dye eyepatch (a gift from _guess who_ several years back) and dialed a number.

A confused voice with a slight drawl answered. "Yes? Who is this?"

"Secretary Ross." Fury began smoothly. "You may not remember me, but we met shortly after the New York attacks in 2012, regarding someone of mutual interest."

There was a very long pause. Finally, Ross spoke, sounding slightly strained. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Fury smirked. "I've been told I'm hard to kill. Now, Mr. Secretary, I have one thing only to say to you, and I'll stop wasting your time. Leave those Avengers that did not sign the Sokovia Accords _alone_."

"Technically, if they didn't sign the Accords, they aren't part of the Avengers anymore…"

" _Technically_ , Mr. Secretary, I have enough dirt on you to get you hauled before a Senate committee. Which is _more_ justice than certain other people received at your hands."

"What right do you have to tell me what to do with them? They are fugitives of the United States government previously under my jurisdiction…"

"They are not your team!"

Fury didn't yell. He didn't have to. His voice just kept getting lower and harder, final reaching its zenith on the last bit.

"The Avengers are not yours, Mr. Secretary. They never will be. They were created to fight the battles we never could, never _would_ ; and to make the calls others wouldn't. They need accountability who understands that. You, sir, are _not_ it."

"You have no right to lecture me…"

"Probably not. But I didn't really call to give a lecture. I called to tell you that unless you leave those Avengers gone rogue alone, I will personally make sure that every little thing you _don't_ want known is trending on Twitter and getting your ass dragged in for questioning. Frankly, I just might do it anyway. _Is that clear_?"

There was a long moment of silence. Finally, Ross sputtered out, "Clear."

"Good. So glad we had this talk. All the best, Mr. Secretary."

At that, Fury ended the call and gave another long sigh. He'd be keeping tabs on the general to make sure he followed though.

He couldn't be openly involved in this mess, but he would do his part to make sure that his Avengers could lay low in peace.

They deserved that much.

* * *

Christy was in her room watching music videos on YouTube when someone knocked on her door.

"Come in!" she called.

Wanda swung open the door and stalked in like an angry cat. "I was told you have a punching bag?"

Christy laughed in sheer shock and pointed over to the corner of her room, where said bag hung from the ceiling. "Want me to boot it up?"

"If that means turn it on, then yes."

Christy slipped over and switched the device on. "Anyone special you wanna punch?"

"Zola. The toad-man."

"Ooh, good choice." Christy flipped through the images until she found Zola's bespectacled face. "All yours. Punch away. Just…try not to crash it through the floor."

The joke made Wanda's anger dissipate a little…but only a little. "No promises, _mače_." Taking a deep breath, she got in a good stance and whacked at the image, her style a mix of Natasha's training and several self-protection moves she had developed as a young teenager living on the streets.

After a few minutes, she felt better and Zola's "face" was a bloody mess.

"I like that part." she said, gesturing to the image.

Christy gave an embarrassed grin. "That part's my favorite, too. So…was he in Uncle Bucky's memory?"

Wanda sighed and sat down next to Christy on the bed. "Yes, he was. Terrible man."

"How many words did you…undo?"

"Two, so far. Only two. We're going slow. We have done _zhelanye_ and _prorzhavevshiy_ —longing and rusted."

Christy screwed up her face. "'Rusted?' That's a weird one. Was it because of his arm?"

"Not…only because of his arm. I don't think so. But they…" Wanda's face looked dark. "They told him he was nothing. A 'rusted, broken tool,' to be exact. They said that he had been abandoned to die and only HYDRA could give him purpose."

Christy looked incensed. "Now _I_ wanna punch Zola!"

Wanda shook her head. "Get behind your father. He and Sam are talking with Bucky now. I think…I think Sam will help. I am fixing his memories, but…can you understand this?"

Christy crossed her arms. "Try me."

Wanda laughed a little at her serious face. "Fine. Every memory has emotions that go with it. What I am doing to your uncle is fixing the emotions connected with the memories connected to the words. I can't make the memories go away, though. He…he is starting to remember how badly he was treated, more than before. He will need someone to talk to, someone with more experience than me."

Christy nodded. "Yeah. Sam's good at that stuff. Actually…I wanted to ask you about something, something important."

"Yes?"

"I…it's Father's Day this weekend."

Wanda nodded slowly. She'd been introduced to the holiday last year. "So it is. Did you want to do something?"

Christy shrugged. "I usually make a cake. And write something for Dad. But I was thinking…look, my family's weird, okay? I basically have three dads: Dad, Sam, and Uncle Bucky. Well, make that four; my birth dad. I wanna do something for each of them. And I don't know what."

Wanda looked thoughtful. "I think they would all appreciate a card. You don't have to buy them anything. And…you mentioned cake, but what about making something special for each of them? Something they like a lot?"

Christy swung her legs back and forth. "I can do some food, but not a lot. You can cook…can Pietro?"

"He can read a recipe and follow directions. Mostly." Wanda smirked. "If that doesn't work, he can hand us things."

"Okay. But…I don't know where to get food here. Back home, we'd go to the grocery store, but…"

"They have markets here, and some bigger stores." Wanda assured. "And I will help you. We can ask T'Challa; he will know where we can buy things."

Christy grinned. "We gotta be sneaky, though. That's _three people_ we gotta keep this a secret from." Her grin faded. "What are you and Pietro gonna do?"

Wanda bit her lip and thought for a moment. "Probably call Clint on Skype." she said, smiling at the thought of the archer who had become their surrogate dad.

"Oh, okay. I just didn't want you guys to feel left out."

"No, no; we won't. But…you did mention your birth father. Do you honor him somehow? I didn't see last year."

Christy shrugged. "Usually Dad takes me to his grave, and I say everything important that happened the past year. But that's not gonna happen this year, so…well, one time I wrote him a letter and then burned it. Smoke goes up to heaven, so it goes to where he is. Maybe I'll do that this year, too."

Wanda nodded slowly, the idea turning itself over in her mind. "I like it. I might join you, if I can."

"Oh, yeah, yeah; of course!" Christy looked determined. "This is gonna be a good Father's Day. I know it! We just can't let them find out anything."

Christy's enthusiasm was palpable, and contagious. Wanda couldn't help but be swept along with it.

And, as it was, she had something to discuss with her twin…

Just then, the door abruptly swung open. Christy shrieked as Pietro came in saying, "Wanda, have you seen my…?"

He stopped talking at the sight of both girls' startled faces. "I…come in peace?"

Wanda reached out and gave her brother a shove. "You're worse than Vision! Knock before you enter a room! We could have been changing!"

"Sorry! All I heard was talking, so I thought it was okay. I was looking for my headphones."

"I think I saw 'em in the Common Area." Christy said, tugging at Pietro's arm. "But right now, you've been recruited."

Pietro looked bemused. "For what?"

"Father's Day planning. I need some help."

Sitting down against the bed, Pietro asked, "What, can't you just write a card that will make Steve cry?"

"That's a given. But it's not just Dad. I'm gonna do something for Sam and Uncle Bucky, too. And I wanna make food."

"Just make breakfast. American breakfasts are good. What you need—eggs, bacon, bread…?"

"Butter and jam for toast, and maybe some fruit." Christy finished. "That could work. Everybody likes breakfast. But I need to figure out where to get all that stuff."

Pietro glanced at Wanda. "We can take her to the market. There should be a market around here, right? Or a store."

"But what if they don't speak English?" Christy asked worriedly.

"I will ask T'Challa where to go." Wanda said firmly. "He'll know the right places. And we are in the capital. More people know English here."

Christy nodded, satisfied. "Just make sure to ask him quietly. Dad'll get suspicious otherwise. And Uncle Bucky."

Pietro tipped his head back and smirked. "Operation Father's Day a go, Captain?"

Christy sat up straight and gave her best imitation of Steve's "decisive battle nod". "It's a go."

* * *

If anyone were to ask His Highness King T'Challa why he spent a decent amount of time in the apartments of his foreign guests, he would probably spout something vague and kingly-sounding about the duties of hospitality.

The truth was, being king was more stressful and lonely than he had imagined. Even with counselors and advisers to assist him, he was unused to being asked for his judgement on so many things. But with his friends, he could remember what it was like to be T'Challa and not just "Your Majesty".

Thus the reason why he ducked into the Common Area that Thursday afternoon.

Sam was sitting on one of the sofas, doing something on a tablet, but everyone else was scattered.

T'Challa slid a bit ungracefully into one of the chairs. Sam looked up and grinned.

"Long day?" he asked.

"Eh…somewhat." T'Challa replied. "I didn't realize how much work _baba_ had…"

Sam nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure. But you should get used to it. You're learning. And don't you have people to consult and help you out?"

"Yes, yes; my advisers are very helpful, and I have uncles and aunts to ask for advice. Still…"

"Hey, uncles are pretty good at giving advice." Sam said. "I should know."

"Yes, you should." T'Challa replied, smiling. "And yet…she does not call you 'uncle'."

Sam clicked open an app on his tablet and typed something in. He lifted up the screen a moment later and showed T'Challa the image of the typical American "Uncle Sam" poster.

"That guy…his name is Uncle Sam. He's s'posed to be, like, the representation of America or something? I dunno. I think the guy they modeled him after was named Samuel something. Anyway, it's used for a lot of patriotic stuff. And the kid's point was, "I'm already Captain America's kid, do I really need an Uncle Sam, too?'"

T'Challa laughed. "So, no 'uncle' for you."

"Nah. I told her it was fine to call me by first name. And it gave Stark one less joke to make…" Sam trailed off and shook his head. "Man, I can't hate him. He did what he thought was right…I just hope this mess smooths back out and we can stop bein' fractured."

"Yes…I would wish that as well." T'Challa said softly. Changing the subject, he added. "I was told that one of your holidays is coming up soon."

"What? Fourth of July?"

"That, but also…Father's Day?"

Sam nodded. "Oh, that's right. Yeah, it's…this weekend, actually. I'll need to call home." He cast his "counselor's eye" on T'Challa. "How have you been, these days? I guess you and your father were pretty close."

"Since my mother died…very close." T'Challa bowed his head slightly. "I did not think it would hurt so much. So much pain…so much _needless_ pain. Zemo…" he gave a mirthless laugh. "But I cannot hate him, either. He could no longer think. Revenge had blinded him to reality."

"It's good that you know that." Sam said carefully. "But…it's not gonna bring you your dad back, is it?"

"No…it will not." T'Challa's stoic mask got the barest crack in it. "It will not."

Sam gave the man a minute to collect himself, and then said quietly, "I dunno if anyone's told you this, but you _are_ allowed to mourn. Go cry or scream or slash something up with your claws…I don't know. Just don't bottle it up. It's not healthy." He smirked. "Trust me, half these jokers are Exhibit A for why bottling up emotion is bad."

T'Challa nodded. "I will keep that in mind." He hesitated for a moment, and then added. "Thank you. I do not think he would want me to, as you say, "bottle it up" either."

"Parents want their kids to live." Sam assured. "And…I think he'd be proud of how well you're handling everything, considering the circumstances."

"I hope so. I truly do. In the meantime…" T'Challa's eyes strayed over to the chessboard that had apparently been left by Natasha. It had already seen good use. "Care for a rematch, my friend?"

Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sure, get my butt kicked one more time. Remind me to teach you Monopoly, later."

T'Challa raised his eyebrow. "Should I be alarmed?"

Sam gave a devious grin. "No, no. Not in the slightest…"

* * *

"Do you remember him?" Wanda asked Pietro quietly. They were sitting in her room—she at her desk and he sprawled out across the bed.

Pietro rolled over. "Who; _Tata_? Of course. I…" he glanced down. "He could always find something to joke about. Even when everything was terrible. He would tell stories when he came home at night, and…he told me to look after you."

Wanda frowned. "When?"

"A few days before…before the bomb hit. There was fighting everywhere, close to us, and he told me to make sure you were safe…and also to listen to you always. He said you were very smart."

Wanda's gaze was unfocused, lost in memories. "He used to hold both of us on his lap. He was so proud to have twins; no one else we knew did. I…I know we didn't have much money, but…it never seemed to matter. I miss feeling so safe, like nothing in the world could hurt me."

Before she could even register what was happening, Pietro swooped over and scooped her up in a bridal carry.

"I'll keep you safe." he promised, his eyes soft and melted. "Always."

Wanda reached up and touched his cheek. " _Tata_ would be proud of you, I think. You've done what he asked you to."

Pietro grinned. "And _you_ are still smart. Smarter than me, most of the time. Are…are you gonna do that thing? What Christy said—write a letter and burn it?"

"I think so." Wanda said slowly. She tugged a little. "You can let me down, _brat_. I'm not disappearing any time soon."

Pietro lowered her to the ground. "Fine. What do you want to write?"

"I didn't really know…that was why I asked you what you remembered. What do you think he'd want to know?"

"Honestly?" Pietro shook his head. "I think he'd want to know everything. He told us the old fairy tales, and our life since he died sounds like one."

It was a faintly funny concept, thinking of the past ten years as some sort of "once upon a time" tale.

"Once there was a brother and sister, whose parents had died…" Wanda started, her voice slipping into a storytelling cadence.

Pietro grabbed something to write with, and motioned for her to continue.

 _We'll tell you everything,_ _ **Tata**_ _. You deserve to know the full story, straight from your children. It's full of darkness and sadness and horror, but just wait. It ends happily…for now._

* * *

Peter Parker was knee-deep in Algebra homework when a knock on his bedroom door interrupted him.

"Peter, honey; Mr. Stark's on the phone for you!"

Peter stood up and stretched, wondering what Mr. Stark could possibly want him for. There hadn't been any world-threatening events lately and he'd already seen Avengers HQ and Stark Tower ( _that_ had been _awesome_ ).

Exiting his room, he took the phone from his aunt with a quiet 'thanks' and said, "H-hello? Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, kid…" the billionaire's voice sounded a tiny bit…nervous? But that was impossible! Tony Stark wouldn't…well, maybe he would be nervous about some things, but calling a nobody high school kid definitely wouldn't be one of them.

"Uh, listen…are you doing anything on Sunday?"

Peter frowned confusedly. "Sunday?"

"Father's Day." Mr. Stark replied, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Peter felt like someone had exploded something in his head. Truth be told, he'd completely forgotten about Father's Day being this weekend.

Well…it wasn't like he'd had much cause to remember it, seeing as all his father figures were sort of dead.

"No." he said faintly. "No, I…wasn't plannin' on anything, Mr. Stark."

"Well, uh, I wasn't either. And then Natasha told me to quit mopin' around and Rhodey told me to quit mopin' around and then I thought about you, and…so, how 'bout it, kid? We can do science or whatever the heck you want. Go on a picnic. Whatever dads are supposed to do with their kids on Father's Day."

Peter suddenly learned what was meant by the phrase "tunnel vision" because there was no way that _Tony Stark_ had just asked to spend Father's Day with _him…_

"Kid? If you'd rather not…"

"I'll do it! I'm in! Thanks a million, Mr. Stark! You…you didn't have to do this."

"It eases my conscience." Mr. Stark said bluntly. "And, you're kinda growing on me, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. I've got a reputation to keep up."

"Oh, oh, of course not. Right. Yup. Totally; got a…reputation to keep up. A reputation…yeah. Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?"

"W-why me?"

"Why you what?"

Peter sighed. "I'm smart, sure. I got spider powers. But there's plenty of people runnin' around with powers these days. Why me? You're _Tony Stark_. And I'm…nobody. Nerdy Peter Parker that nobody wants to hang around with."

There was a long pause. Peter began to regret asking anything.

"Look, Peter." Peter jumped at hearing _Tony Stark_ call him by name. "I suppose the cliché thing to say would be 'I see some of myself in you'. Unfortunately, that statement is complete bull, because I _don't_ see much of my past self in you. Similar interests, maybe. But you…you're a hell of a lot better than I was at sixteen. Than I was at _thirty_. I was wrong to get you involved in everything…I drafted you in for a fight you knew nothing about, and as minor."

"But it's really okay…"

"No, it wasn't." Mr. Stark sounded deadly serious. "I was careless and not thinking straight. You have powers, but that was no excuse for me to shove you into a battle between the superhero equivalents of Black Ops; people twice your age with three times your experience. I was…wrong." he gave a wry laugh. "That seems to be a theme with me, lately. So, call this me making up for everything, me looking for a protégé, me spending time with someone who _doesn't_ look at me with a giant disappointed face…whatever you want."

Peter felt speechless.

"I, I…thanks, Mr. Stark. I'd be honored to spend Sunday with you."

"Thanks yourself, kid. What time you want me to pick you up? Factoring in your age, you probably aren't coherent before at least ten…how about around noon?"

"U-uh, yeah, yeah; noon's fine. Noon's totally fine. S-see you then, Mr. Stark."

"See you then, kid."

The call ended. Peter stared at the phone for a minute and then dropped it onto the table.

"Aunt May! You're not gonna believe…"

* * *

Steve woke up on Sunday morning, stumbled out to the Common Area, and walked towards the kitchen, looking for coffee.

He was met by a firmly locked door, complete with the banging and sizzling sounds of cooking coming from within said kitchen.

"You're not getting in there."

Steve turned around to find Sam and Bucky sitting on the sofa and in a chair, respectively. Both men were already nursing cups of coffee.

"The door's locked." Bucky continued. "They're in there doin'…something."

"I just hope it turns out edible." Sam muttered.

"Christy can cook!" Steve argued, just as Bucky blurted out, "Wanda knows how to cook."

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough!"

"So…how did you guys get coffee?" Steve wanted to know.

Bucky shrugged. "Knocked on the door. They had it ready."

Sighing, Steve proceeded to do just that. A grinning Pietro answered the door by practically shoving a mug of coffee into his hands. "Breakfast ready soon." he promised, before once more shutting the door and locking it with a click.

Bemusedly, Steve sat down and took a sip of the drink. "So what's all this fuss about?"

"It's Father's Day." Sam said, with a "have your lost your brain?" tone.

Steve felt a sudden jerk as he _did_ remember that it was Father's Day. "Oh." he said, his voice small. "I forgot."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Punk forgets yet another day that could honor him, why am I _not_ surprised?"

"We've been a little busy!" Steve protested. "Wait, so you guys are out of the loop, too?"

"Yup." Sam replied. "I haven't heard anything except that T'Challa knows what today is. So they probably had to ask him about something. But if they're planning something, I'm clueless."

Steve shrugged and took another sip of coffee. "Well, I'm not gonna turn down prepared food."

"Amen to that." Bucky muttered.

About ten minutes later, the door quietly edged open. Wanda poked her head out and said, "Breakfast is ready."

The three men trooped obediently into the kitchen and found an impressive array of breakfast food waiting for them. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fruit…

"Dang…" Sam said quietly, retracting any thoughts he'd had about Christy, Wanda, or Pietro's abilities to cook.

"Happy Father's Day." Christy said, grinning her heart out. She took a deep breath and grabbed something off the counter. "I…I usually just do something for Dad, but I thought, this year…" Another breath. "I basically have three dads. So I wanted to do something for each of them." She quietly handed a thin envelope to each of the "dads", and they opened them slowly.

Steve was able to finish his letter with his heart relatively intact. Four years with Christy had left him not immune, but certainly accustomed to effusive declarations of love. Particularly in written form. This letter contained all the usual sentiments appropriate for the day—although his heart did clench at _"thank you for choosing me, because when I imagine my life not adopted by you, I get scared"_.

"Thanks, baby." he whispered finally, tugging Christy against his chest. "I love you… _so_ much."

Bucky was _not_ crying at his letter, he was _not_ , even if it was hard to contain himself at, _"I wish you could see yourself like I do, just once. Then maybe you would know why you're worth it."_ When he finished, he pressed it against his chest and bowed his head.

"This thing's getting framed." he joked, but his eyes were leaking. He snatched Christy into a hug. "Thanks, doll."

Sam was in a mild state of shock. He was easygoing and perfectly accepting of the fact that he would never be number one for Christy. He'd never wanted the position—and Steve deserved it. She'd called him a "back-up dad" before, but he'd never realized how _seriously_ she'd taken the term.

 _"_ _You're the one who taught me that not all battles are fought with kicks and punches, and that sometimes the biggest battles are fought in your head. You helped me figure out what I want to do when I'm older. When Dad's gone, I know you'll take care of me. I hope this letter shows you just how much I love you. You're the best back-up dad_ _ **ever**_ _."_

"Wow." he whispered finally. "Thanks, Christy."

Christy shrugged. "I mean it. You're the best."

Pietro cleared his throat quietly. "Hate to interrupt, but the food is getting cold, and we worked pretty hard…"

"Fine, let's eat." Steve said. As they sat down at the smallish kitchen table, he asked, "So…what are you two gonna do for the day? Anything…?"

Wanda grinned. "Thought we'd try and call the Old Man on Skype."

Sam nodded approvingly. "Clint would appreciate that. He really…" he trailed off. "No disrespect to your parents' memory, but he basically is your dad now."

"He's very parental." Pietro said, a small smirk on his face.

"I still remember in the battle, last year." Wanda mused. "I was…freaking out," a look at Christy confirmed that the idiom was correct, "and he talked me back into fighting. He said I could stay hiding where I was, if I wanted…but if I stepped out, I was an Avenger. So, I stepped out."

Steve grinned. "That sounds like Clint."

"How come I didn't get an acceptance speech?" Pietro complained.

"If you get me s'more milk in ten seconds, you are an Avenger." Christy said, deadpan. Amid Steve's cry of "Christy!" and Wanda's of "He'll spill it!" Pietro shot up and dashed over to the fridge.

It was a good morning.

* * *

There was one last thing to do, later that night.

"Are we seriously allowed to do this?" Pietro hissed, glancing at the (admittedly tiny) fire.

"You are in my private garden." T'Challa answered, amused. "With me. I don't think anyone will be telling me I cannot have a small recreational fire in my own garden."

"I guess there's something nice about being a king." Christy said, gazing happily into the flames.

Wanda gave the girl an affectionate grin. "You would think something was nice if it involved fire."

"I _like_ fire." Christy mumbled stubbornly. She looked around the little group; it was just her, T'Challa, and the twins. "Who's going first?"

Pietro shrugged. "Your idea. Show us how it's done."

Christy looked _slightly_ like a deer in the headlights (causing Wanda to give her brother a _look_ ) but she finally nodded. "Okay. Here goes." Taking a deep breath, she stepped close to the fire and drew out a sheet of paper. "This is for Scott Allen. My...my dad before anyone else. He loved me a lot, but…but he had to go." her voice cracked. "Because that's what soldiers do. They go fight. But I know he's resting in peace, now. I love you, Dad."

At that, she threw the paper into the fire and watched as the flames devoured it, sending smoke up to the sky.

Pietro, not to be outdone by an eleven year old, stepped forward next. "This…this is for our father. His name was Danil Maximoff, and…" He stopped, unable to go on. The letter he and Wanda had worked so hard on hung limply from his hand.

"He was brave, and kind, and he loved stories." Wanda continued. "We thought he would like to have ours. So we wrote it down. This is for you, _Tata_. We miss you."

"Every day." Pietro choked out. "Hope you're…proud of us."

Together, they dropped the paper into the waiting flames, and clung to each other, hard.

T'Challa eased himself forward. "First, my friends, I would thank you, for allowing me to see you in this moment. You are all very brave. It…it is good to honor those who are gone. And now…" he drew out a small letter. Wanda had mentioned Christy's idea to him, when she had asked where the local market was, and he had known it was a sign.

He could finally put Sam's advice into practice.

 _"_ _Molo, baba_." he whispered. Straightening a little, he added, "This is for my father. If I can be half the king he was, I shall be a happy man. If I can be half the man he was…I shall be even happier." He closed his eyes and pressed the letter to his heart. "Run well, _baba_. I…I love you."

Once more, the fire had new fuel. The four figures stood silently and watched the flames burn down low.

"This was good." Wanda said finally, summing up everyone's thoughts.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

* * *

Out of habit, Steve went into Christy's room that night, even though she was long asleep. Creepy as it might sound to some, he liked to watch her just _breathe_ sometimes. She looked so different when she wasn't humming with energy.

 _Four years._ He thought. _Four years since I started this._

He remembered the weeks leading up to Christy's adoption. Torn between thrill and terror, he'd been reading and researching like mad, praying he wouldn't screw things up for this tiny child who trusted him with everything she had.

 _She still does_. He grinned softly. _Four years of "crazy," as she puts it, and she still looks at me like I'm the greatest man in the world. And_ _ **I**_ _still don't know how I got to deserve that…_

 _Maybe I don't. Maybe that's the point. That's love._

He reached over and laid his hand over Christy's forehead. Unbidden, a line from a movie he'd been pressed into watching more than once fluttered into his head. Heart full of joy, he whispered it aloud.

"The greatest gift and honor…is having _you_ for a daughter."

* * *

 **And...that's a wrap. Hope that all was worth the wait.  
**

 **Question: I'll be showing some more of Bucky's "unconditiong" sessions, but I don't think I want to write out all of them in detail, since I feel like that would get really repetitive. That being said, which words are you guys most interested in seeing my take on/seeing unpacked? "Freight Car" is definitely getting shown in detail, but all the others are up for negotiation. I do HAVE explanations/memories for all the words, though.**

 **As always...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, again! Here's my Fourth of July chapter two days late. Unfortunately, real life intruded on my writing time, but I finally got this done, and in a state I was pleased with. I had rough time getting a couple scenes just right.**

 **For all of my American readers, happy belated Independence Day! For all my other readers, I hope July fourth was a good day for you. ;)**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

 _"_ _In breaking news, the hunt for Captain Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, and all those Avengers who did_ _ **not**_ _sign the Sokovia Accords, has been indefinitely postponed. Due to recent developments and questions surrounding the identity of the UN bomber…"_

"Mom?" Cooper asked. "Does that mean Dad's not in trouble anymore?"

Laura walked out of the kitchen into the living room, where her three kids sat playing. She had turned the TV to a news station, but hadn't really been paying attention…

"I…" she shook her head, after listening to the news anchor for a moment. "I guess so, bud." She frowned, and called upstairs, "Clint? Can you come down for a minute?"

Clint thumped down the stairs quickly. "What's up?"

Laura gestured mutely at the TV. "You heard anything about this?"

Clint shook his head slowly as he took in the on-screen news. "No…not a bit. I wonder what happened…" As he spoke, his phone began to trill. He fished it out of his pocket and answered; it was Natasha.

"Hey…" he started.

"Are you watching the news?" Natasha asked, straight to the point as usual.

"Yup, Laura got me. So it's for real?"

"Yeah, all real." There was a hint of a smile in Natasha's voice. "Fury got Ross to back down."

Clint's eyebrows rose. "Nick? How do you know?"

"He called me. Said he didn't want us runnin' around like criminals for something that wasn't really a crime, so he called Ross and… _negotiated_ something." She snorted. "Apparently Ross has a lot of skeletons in his closet, and Fury threatened to blow the whistle on him. You know how persuasive he can be."

"And _scary_." Clint muttered.

"He said he might blow the whistle anyway. A guy like Ross should've never become Secretary of State; I don't care what his military cred was."

"Agreed. Guy was an a—a jerk." he amended, well aware that three pairs of ears were listening. He sighed. "Well, this is a nice Fourth of July present. How're Tony and all them takin' it?"

Natasha gave a half-laugh. "Vision's relieved for Wanda's sake, and trying not to act like it. Tony's in the same boat. Rhodes is…well, he wasn't happy that you guys got locked up and roughed around with, but he's still in favor of oversight; even though he's mostly come around to our way of thinking about Ross. So he's got…mixed feelings. I also called Lang, so he knows too. He sounded pretty relieved over the phone. Sharon said she'd make sure Steve got the word, so I don't know about everyone in you-know-where, but I can bet they'll be happy."

Clint smiled, able to picture everyone's reactions as Natasha described them. One name gave him pause, though. "Sharon? You two are talking now?"

"Yeah, we are. She's nice. And understands what it's like to be always picking up after you boys." Natasha's tone sounded like she was smirking. "And I make it a point to vet all of Steve's potential dates."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Are they…serious?"

"Not sure. 'Course it's not Steve's style to do anything on a fling, especially a relationship. So I'd say given some time—a _lot_ of time…"

Clint nodded. "Okay then. Well, speaking of happy couples, when are you and the Doc gonna come out? The kids wanna see Auntie Nat and Uncle Bruce."

Natasha sighed in contemplation. "How about the Fourth? You guys gonna cook out?"

"Yeah, just do hamburgers and hotdogs; watch the fireworks. Cooper's got some sparklers he's pretty proud to try out. You two are welcome."

"Alright; sounds good. I'll tell Bruce to bring earplugs. See you then."

"See ya, Tasha."

"What was that about?" Laura asked, as Clint ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

"Well, apparently Fury got behind-the-scenes involved and got Ross to back down. Also, Tasha and Bruce are comin' over on the Fourth."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "That's a quick mood change."

Clint turned and gave his wife a long, smacking kiss. "I'm free— that's the most important thing. No more worries."

Laura wrapped her arms around Clint's middle. "I'm so glad…"

"So you're not in trouble anymore, Dad?" Cooper asked. "No more jail?"

"You can stay with us?" Lila echoed.

Clint nodded. "Looks like I'm off the hook for now."

Both kids ran in for hugs on either side of their mom. Nathaniel, still in his playpen, started making noise at being left out.

 _Let freedom ring…_ Clint thought, half sardonic, half in sheer relief. _And let the celebration begin._

* * *

Once more, Wanda, Steve, and Bucky sat in the small back room of the palace clinic, ready for the latest "unconditioning" session. Bucky still insisted on being strapped down as a precaution, although not as heavily as the first time. Steve had assured him that he was actually pretty still during Wanda's ministrations.

Bucky was taking slow, deep breaths and working on clearing his mind; something Sam had advocated for doing before each session. Wanda was twisting the red tendrils of energy through her fingers, and Steve was glancing over the "word of the day".

So far, they had gotten through "longing," "rusted," "seventeen," and "daybreak." Longing had been traced back to his first time waking up as the Winter Soldier with a wiped memory. Rusted had correlated with being told his missing arm marked him as "rusted and broken," only useful to HYDRA. Seventeen, seemingly very odd, had connected to a Russian HYDRA general with a clever mind and a sick sense of humor. Apparently the Roman numeral for seventeen could be re-arranged to form the Latin word meaning "I have lived"—meaning, of course, that his previous life was now over. "Daybreak" had involved Zola ranting about a "new dawn"— using the Winter Soldier to accomplish HYDRA's will.

Each word had come with accompanying emotions that, all working together, invoked the programming in Bucky's mind. So each time, Wanda had to work to stabilize the emotions with her powers, and with the truth.

For "longing," she had reminded him of his past and his new life, of the memories he'd been craving. For "rusted," she had called upon memories of Steve, Sam, Christy, and many others, to remind him that his "use" was not only connected to how many people he could kill. For "seventeen," she had used a memory of her own, an old memory of her mother telling her that seventeen was "a number of victory, a number of triumph over evil". And for "daybreak," she had utilized the memory Steve had shown her of another daybreak: the morning after Captain America's first rescue from the HYDRA base in Azzano.

At last, Wanda shook herself out of her thoughts and looked at Steve and Bucky. "Ready?" she asked.

Bucky nodded and rolled his shoulders back. "As I'll ever be."

"Hey, this is working." Steve protested. "You can't tell me cryo was a better option than this!"

"I know it is." Bucky assured. "And _no_ , cryo _wasn't_ a better option than this. But it's still not easy."

"No one said it would be." Wanda replied. "Least of all me. And talking with Sam after these times helps, yes?"

"Definitely, yes." Bucky sighed. The idea of therapy and counseling, which he would have dismissed outright in his own time, was honestly a very good one. And Sam was good at it.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road." Steve said quietly, his thumb resting on the next word, "furnace". "On three—one, two, three… _Pech'_."

Wanda leaped into Bucky's mind as soon as Steve said the word. As with many of the other memories, she found herself engulfed in a dim, clammy atmosphere that indicated a HYDRA base.

What was different was the severe level of _pain_ that immediately radiated over her.

 _Hurtshurtshurtshurtshurtsmakeitstopmakeitstopfirefirefireburningupinsidemecan'tstopitgonnaexplodegonnadiepleasestoptheburning!_

The strong emotion nearly caused Wanda to recoil, but she rallied herself enough to take in the scene before her. It was hazy, like looking through thick smoke.

Bucky, bruised and bloodied, lay on a metal operating table.

 _"_ _He is ready for surgery, Doctor."_

It was Zola, again, white lab coat and all. He leaned over Bucky with a leering grin.

"Sergeant Barnes…" he said. "How nice to meet again. Don't worry; you'll experience a small amount of pain. But it is necessary for steel to go through the furnace, eh? You'll be a proper weapon after this."

Bucky kicked and struggled, but it was obvious that he had already been drugged, making his resistance have little impact.

 _"_ _Restrain him."_ Zola barked impatiently.

Hands grabbed Bucky and roughly shoved him down, fastening restraints around his upper chest, abdomen, and legs.

 _"_ _You will be the new Fist of HYDRA…"_ Zola's voice whispered eerily.

 _Fist…Fist…FIST._

 _"_ _You will be a proper weapon after this…"_

Fear and despair swirled around Wanda like a bad smell. But the pain was the worst. And small wonder, since she was still watching the surgery—meaning that Bucky could remember it.

Meaning that he had been _conscious_.

Zola and the other doctors assisting him weren't _incompetent,_ but they weren't striving to uphold the Hippocratic Oath, either. Hence the shoddy grafting job they did, attaching the metal arm to Bucky's shoulder.

 _BurningburningburningpainsomuchpainmakeitstopmakeitSTOP!_

Wanda had seen enough. But this emotion was harder to counteract.

 _What should I do…?_

Slowly, she took a breath. Red tendrils snaked through the memory, infused with every calming emotion Wanda could summon.

 _Breathe…breathe…be still,_ she thought; because panic only made pain worse.

Slowly, very slowly, the abject _throbbing_ of the memory's aura died down, letting other emotions poke through.

There was shame, at being restrained so easily. Anger, at being treated like nothing. Fear and worry for Steve…

 _This is soon after the train._ Wanda realized. Slowly, she let the red tendrils pulse again.

 _You are wounded and tired, and they took advantage of that. Don't be ashamed…_ She thought slowly. _And you are right to be angry at how they treated you. Steve is fine; as of now. You know the end of this story. Remember the pain—YES_! Her powers pulsed as something—Bucky's own emotion or the programming—pushed back. _Remember it. Acknowledge that it happened. But remember that every pain dulls. And, given the chance, it will heal._

 _"_ _Weapon…"_ The word danced at the edges of the memory, taunting and loud.

 _HE IS NOT A WEAPON!_ Wanda thought as loud as she could, powers crackling with intensity. _HIS NAME IS BUCKY AND HE IS NOT A WEAPON!_

She stayed in the memory a little longer, matching the pain and shame with the happy emotions Bucky had exhibited the morning he showed off his new arm.

 _You don't have to be a gun, my friend. Whatever they did to you, you can still choose who you will be._

Once the aura of the memory was less hazy and more stable, she backed out.

Bucky lay back against the chair, eyes shut and dripping in sweat. He cracked open his eyes and, looking at Wanda, let out a low moan.

"It hurt so bad…" he whispered. "It hurt…"

Wanda put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I know. I saw." She shook her head, tears blurring in her own eyes.

 _So much pain…and for what? A human weapon? Did none of them care?!_

"What happened?" Steve asked quietly.

"The—the arm…" Bucky choked out. "When they attached it…they didn't give me anesthetic…"

Steve's eyes sparked. "You were _awake_ for the _entire_ _surgery_?!"

"They drugged me with something, so I wouldn't struggle, but, yeah…I was awake." He let out a bitter laugh. "Turned me into a gun, right there and then. Anywhere I went, that thing marked me as HYDRA's. Almost makes me glad Tony tore it off…"

Steve was still looking five seconds away from engineering an opportunity to spit on Zola's grave (if Zola _had_ a grave), so Wanda took charge.

"Bucky." she said firmly. "Did you _listen_ to me?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Could hear everything."

"Then what did I say about you being a gun?"

The light dawned in Bucky's eyes, as he saw what she was getting at. "'You don't have to be a gun…'" he said faintly.

"You _don't_." she assured fiercely. "I don't care what they made of you. I don't care what they forced you to do. You're free now, and _you choose_ what you will be! You choose!" Wanda stopped, shaking with emotion.

"Look at your arm, Buck." Steve said, finally recovered enough to speak.

Bucky looked down at the smooth, flesh-toned metal of his new arm.

"That look like the arm of a killer?"

Bucky flashed a pained smile. "Looks can be deceiving."

"But minds cannot." Wanda cut in. "I've _seen_ your mind. It's not the mind of a killer."

Bucky looked her square in the face. "Then what is it?"

Wanda took a deep breath. "It's the mind of a man pushed beyond everything, hurt beyond everything, who somehow managed to survive and is rebuilding himself. It's the mind of a hero."

Bucky appeared ready to scoff, but Wanda's serious face made him think twice. "A hero, huh?"

"Heroes aren't perfect." Steve said ruefully. "And being a hero doesn't mean you don't hurt. I guess what makes a hero different is…they don't want anyone else hurting like they have. So they make that their mission—to stop the pain."

Something about that struck a chord with Bucky. Stopping pain instead of causing it. Making sure others didn't suffer horrors like he had. Fixing instead of destroying.

 _You choose who you will be._

 ** _You_** _choose._

Once upon a time, that had been the scariest sentence anyone could utter. Now, it filled him with hope.

 _I'm gonna be a hero. I'm gonna fix pain, not make it._

 _A hero. That's what I'll be._

 ** _That's_** _what I choose._

* * *

Americans, T'Challa had decided—after years of sporadic interaction with said people—were like fireworks: loud, bright, and irrepressible. Specifically _his_ Americans (and two Sokovians of uncertain legal residency). It wasn't as though Wakandans weren't joyful—on the contrary, his people were very celebratory—but there was an ancientness to their culture that had an effect on the people. This was something Americans, in his experience, did not possess.

It was a few days after deciding upon this that Christy came to him with a—in light of said comparison—hilarious request.

"Fireworks?" he asked, wracking his brain as to why the girl would ask for such a thing.

Christy nodded and looked away. "Yeah…for Fourth of July."

T'Challa grinned slightly. "Ah, yes; American Independence Day. Are fireworks so very important for the occasion?"

Christy nodded again, her eyes bright as stars. "Oh, yeah! They're the best part! Besides, I mean, the whole reason we celebrate in the first place. But yeah, fireworks…it's not Fourth of July without 'em."

"I see. Well, then, I shall endeavor to see where I might obtain some."

"You have fireworks in Wakanda?"

T'Challa smiled indulgently. "Yes. We even have television and cars."

Christy sighed. "I didn't mean it like _that_." she mumbled. "I'm not a dumb American that thinks everywhere else has nothing."

Something like fire flashed through T'Challa's veins. "Who has been calling you that?" he asked sharply. The general attitude towards foreigners in Wakanda was one of curiosity and interest, but there were some with smug attitudes of superiority, given their technology and advancements. If someone had insulted his _umzala_ …

Christy froze. "Oh; nobody here! It's just…stuff I see on the internet…"

"Then the internet is foolish, and the people on it more so." T'Challa cupped his hand under Christy's chin. "You are not 'dumb'. The only way to learn is to ask. This is the longest time you've been out of America, correct?"

Christy nodded.

"Then naturally you don't know how things are done, or what things are different than in your home country. Naturally you ask questions. As long as you are polite, there should be no issue."

"People say Americans don't know anything about the rest of the world."

T'Challa shook his head. "I don't know who these people are, but I wish you wouldn't listen to them." He rested his hand on Christy's shoulder. "Be proud of where you come from. There is no shame in that. And learn as much as you can. Understand?"

" _Ewe_." Christy whispered, smiling.

T'Challa smiled back. "Exactly, _lilangatye_ _kancinane_. Exactly like that." he patted her shoulder. "You'll get your fireworks. Don't worry. Anything else?"

"Well…Fourth of July…it's kinda also Dad's birthday."

T'Challa gave his signature eyebrow raise. "Your father was born on your country's independence day? And he became _Captain America_?"

Christy grinned. "Yeah, yeah; he's heard it all before. But, I was kinda hoping we could go somewhere out of the palace, for the day. Not that there's anything _wrong_ with the palace, but…"

"Did you have somewhere in mind?" T'Challa asked, sensing that the answer was "yes".

Christy's grin got wider. "Remember that waterfall, the one you said I could swim in?"

"Yes…"

"Can that still be a thing? With all of us, and a picnic or something? It'd be a nice thing."

T'Challa couldn't help but smile back. "Yes, it can be a _thing_. Am I invited to this _thing_?"

Christy smirked just a little. "Of course _you're_ invited. You're bringin' the fireworks!"

* * *

A couple of days before his birthday, Steve felt his phone pulse in his pocket. He dug it out and saw that it was a call from Sharon.

Thankfully, he was already in his room, so he quickly shut the door and answered. "Hey, Sharon."

"Steve! Hi! Uh, well, first order of business; Happy Birthday—almost birthday."

Steve felt a flutter of… _something_ go through his heart. _She remembered my birthday! Okay, it's not hard to remember, but_ _ **still**_ _…_

"Thanks!" he managed to stutter out. _Smooth, Rogers; real smooth!_

"You're welcome." There was a smile in Sharon's voice. "Sorry I can't be there in person, but I wanted to say something. Also…I don't know how much you've been watching the news over there…"

"Not much." Steve admitted. "We're keeping up, but…seeing too much discussion of everything still makes Wanda upset. She's not quite over Lagos, or the Raft."

"Understandable." Sharon replied, sounding sympathetic. "Then I have some good news for you. Ross called off the hunt. You and the others…you're all in the clear."

Steve blinked as the news washed over him like a splash of water. "Wh-why?" he asked, thoroughly confused. "A man like that…I'd expect him to keep at it till doomsday. He gave Bruce hell for years…"

"And finally stopped, thanks to a little intervention from someone specific. Someone who wears an eyepatch."

Suddenly, everything made sense. "Fury made him call it off."

"Bingo." Sharon said. "According to Nat, who he called, Ross has enough skeletons in his closet to really make things difficult for his political career. Nick just casually reminded him of that."

"Right. _Casually_."

"Honestly…" Sharon paused. "The way he handled everything was way out of line. The way _everything_ was handled was out of line. Especially with Barnes. You could probably take legal action against him. He'd be in trouble." She gave a short laugh. "So would the other Ross."

Steve sighed. "Nah, I'm not that vindictive."

"It could be a chance to clear Barnes' name. You never know."

The idea was tempting. But the time was all wrong.

"Not now." Steve said finally. "There's been enough havoc raised by this whole mess. Give it time for cooler heads to prevail, and maybe we'll get some justice. Maybe. But at least now we're not fugitives."

"That is _very_ true. Just in time for the Fourth. I thought it was fitting."

Steve gave a soft grin. "Yeah. Well, I'll be sure to tell the others; they're all gonna be relieved. Especially Wanda. And now I can think about heading stateside with impunity."

"When…would that possibly be?" Sharon asked hesitantly.

"Well…" Steve slowly explained the process they were going through with Bucky's mind, and how it really wasn't something that could be rushed. "I'm thinking, at the best, early fall. Near Christmas at the latest. But that's all tentative right now. I don't even know where we'd _go_ if we came stateside."

"Fair enough." Sharon said. "It's just…it's a little hard to get a date when the guy you wanna go with is on another continent."

Steve started, nearly in shock. Yeah, they'd kissed, and yeah they'd expressed interest in getting to know one another, but he was still a little new to this whole "romance" thing, even after Peggy. To think that Sharon actually wanted to go on a date with him…

"I'm gonna need a rain check." he choked out. "I owe you a better date than snatched coffee at a hotel."

"No, no the coffee was great." Sharon assured. "But I'd like to see you when something non-life threatening or non-sad is happening, and I think you would, too. So, when's this rain check for?"

"Before Christmas." Steve said, his head spinning crazily. "I can promise that. Barring aliens or HYDRA, or the end of the world…"

Sharon laughed. "I get it, I get it! Fine. Before Christmas. And don't be late."

A pang of sorrow skipped though Steve, but he pushed it aside. He and Peggy had lost their chance, but now he had another, and he was determined not to mess it up.

"I won't. No crashing planes into the Atlantic this time."

"Please don't." Sharon said, her voice serious. "Because then there'd be no more Steve Rogers…and we can't have that, can we?"

Steve noted, with shy appreciation, that she said it was _Steve Rogers_ who would be missed, not Captain America.

"Nah." he whispered. "We really can't have that."

* * *

The morning of July fourth dawned bright and clear, and all through the Avengers' apartments came various interesting sounds…

"No, Christy, make sure you don't get flour everywhere."

"Pietro, stop eating sugar! Bucky, stop helping him!"

"Can somebody give me a rag? I got egg on the counter."

" _How_ did you get egg on the counter?! You've got a bowl!"

"Sorry!"

A sigh was heaved. "Why are there five people in here, you don't need five people to make this! Go sit at the table until I need you!"

"But it's for _my_ dad!"

"Christy can help me. The rest of you sit down!"

Steve sat in the Common Area sipping coffee, barred from the kitchen—even though he could tell exactly what was going on. He smirked at the train wreck occurring behind the closed door.

 _Sam, Sam…you don't know how bad we'd all fall apart without you._

The kitchen door swung open and Wanda and Pietro came out of the room. Wanda looked fairly neat, but Pietro had managed to get flour in his hair. Steve decided not to look too deeply into that one.

"Happy Birthday!" they chorused.

Steve grinned. "Thanks, you two."

"I feel bad we don't have a present." Wanda admitted shyly. "You've been so good to both of us."

Pietro nodded, fingering a certain watch on his wrist that he only wore for "special occasions" (aka: whenever he wasn't on a mission)—a present from Steve soon after he and Wanda had joined the Avengers.

Steve shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I expect Christy to try and pull something out of nowhere, but that's just because she's Christy. I wasn't looking for anything fancy. Just the fact that no one's hunting us down anymore is present enough for me."

They both nodded this time, Wanda looking especially relieved.

"So, what kind of cake am I getting?" he asked, changing the subject.

The twins glanced at each other with mischievous looks. "None." Pietro said slyly.

"They're not making a cake? Then what's going on in there?"

Wanda smirked. "Wait and see."

About ten minutes later, the door flung open.

"Happy Birthday, Dad!" Christy cried, barreling over to Steve and throwing her arms around him. "You're almost a hundred years old!"

Steve groaned, but accepted the hug. "Thanks, baby."

"How's it feel to be a living legend, Stevie?" Bucky snarked.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk, Mr. 'I'm ninety-nine.'"

"Roughly." Bucky said, flopping down next to his best friend and grabbing him in a bone-cracking embrace. "Anyway, Happy Birthday, punk. I'm glad to be here for it."

Steve felt his heart clench and gave a bittersweet smile. "Me too, jerk."

Sam came out of the kitchen and slid into one of the chairs. "Ugh. Next time you people suggest baking, I'm letting you handle it!"

"Thank you, Sam." Christy said, sweet as anything. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, kid. As if I could resist those stupid-cute baby blues."

Christy shrugged. "It's a Rogers' thing."

"Right. Sure." Sam looked over at Steve. "In other news, Happy Birthday, man."

Steve gave a giant smile back. "Thanks. And thanks for putting up with these lunatics to make me a…cake?"

Sam shook his head. "Not a cake. Not this year. It was Bucky's idea."

Steve glanced at his friend, who mumbled, "Apple pie."

Christy giggled a bit, but Steve's face glowed in nostalgia. "With bruised, half-price apples from Mr. Kowalski's fruit stand?" he asked teasingly, remembering how his mother used to make the treat, with their limited funds.

"Nah, not this century." Bucky grinned fondly. "I picked the biggest, juiciest ones. Figured you deserved 'em."

"Here, here." Sam muttered.

"Tried to replicate your Ma's recipe, best I could remember—which isn't much."

"We found recipes on the internet and compared what he knew." Wanda elaborated. "But it was mostly for amounts; he remembered all the ingredients."

Steve shook his head. "Couldn't remember your own name, but you remember my Ma's apple pie recipe, huh, jerk?"

"Hey, your Ma could bake really good!"

"So…" Pietro looked speculative. "How old _are_ you?"

Steve sighed. "Depends on how you calculate it. I was born in 1918. I crashed the plane and started my stint as a popsicle in 1944. 2011, they found me. So I'm either ninety-eight technically or thirty-one physically, since I didn't have my birthday before…well, y'know."

Sam groaned. "You people are so complicated. And he's worse!" he added, jabbing his thumb at Bucky.

"Thirty or thirty-one physically, ninety-nine technically." Bucky said. "But jeez, who's counting at this point?!"

Christy tapped Steve's arm. "Dad…I got you a present."

Steve smiled down at his daughter. "Yeah? What'd you get, baby?"

"Well, I didn't _get_ it, I made it. I wrote you a song…actually, I wrote it a little bit ago, but I figured it would be a good birthday gift. I wrote the words down." She handed him a slightly battered sheet of paper with words written on it in neat, careful handwriting.

"Good writing, baby." he praised. Christy's normal handwriting was fast and a little sloppy—he knew she had worked hard for it to be this precise.

"Thanks." she mumbled. "Wanna…hear it?"

Steve set the paper down and gave her his full attention. "Always."

Christy took a deep breath and started to sing:

 _"_ _I took my stand by the riverside_

 _Packed my bags, said my goodbyes_

 _Now I live the shadow life_

 _In and out, but in the light_

 _That burns out bright from deep inside_

 _Oh, the River of Truth may take your life_

 _But I'll spend my days beside it_

 _I'll raise my head up high and say_

 _No man will ever take me away_

 _If I can't be your hero, then I won't_

 _If I can't be your hero…then I won't._ "

The song ended and Steve was left sitting stunned.

"I wrote it after you told me about dropping the shield." Christy said quietly. "That you wouldn't be Captain America if it meant being something other people wanted. People like Secretary Ross. And…I liked the thing about the river of truth. About standing up for what's right even if everybody tells you you're wrong."

Steve, still trying to process all the beautiful lyrics, pulled Christy into a hug. "Thanks, baby. I love it."

"You're raisin' one heck of a kid, Rogers." Sam said quietly.

Steve nodded. "I know." he replied honestly. "I dunno how I got so lucky."

"You gonna go public with that thing, kid?" Bucky asked, only half joking.

Christy shook her head. "Nah. It's for Dad; special. Besides, nobody else would get it."

Steve leaned back on the couch. Safe, free, and surrounded by people he loved, this was shaping up to be one of his better birthdays since coming out of the ice.

The thought must have shown on his face, because Sam said, "Oh, no; you're not done yet. We still got one last surprise."

Everybody had happy, secretive grins, so Steve guessed that the surprise was a good one. "What is it?"

Christy grinned. "You'll see…"

* * *

"Was the blindfold really necessary?" Steve asked, while stealthily attempting to "adjust" said piece of cloth. His hand was slapped down by (he guessed) Bucky, because his friend replied, "Yes, it was absolutely necessary, punk. It's a _surprise_."

Steve leaned back against the seat of whatever vehicle he was stuffed into and sighed. "Well, I've never been kidnapped on my birthday before, so this is a first."

Bucky snorted. "You've never been kidnapped, _period_. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Yeah, Dad." came Christy's voice from somewhere behind him. "It's really okay. This was my idea."

"And mine!" Pietro protested.

"You just came up with the kidnapping part." Christy said.

"I know." Pietro sounded a little smug. "It was pretty good, huh?"

"Fantastic." Steve replied, completely deadpan. "Can I at least know if this is gonna be a long trip?"

"Not too much longer." Sam replied, his voice coming from the front. Steve guessed that he was riding shotgun. Christy was in the back with Pietro and probably Wanda, Bucky was beside him, so who was driving…?

"T'Challa?" he called out. "Did they rope you into this?"

There was a small pause, and then a familiar rich, accented voice answered. "Guilty as charged, Captain. Though I would like to point out that no rope was involved. Merely a persuasive pair of blue eyes."

Christy giggled softly.

Steve allowed himself to relax a tiny amount. If T'Challa was driving, surely they weren't going to end up anywhere they weren't supposed to. He had just decided to close his eyes and try to nap, when the car came to a graceful halt, and Christy yelled out, "Oh, it's so pretty!"

She was immediately hushed by what sounded like Wanda. The door opened to the right of him, and Bucky's hand tugged on his arm. "C'mon, Birthday Boy. Time for your surprise."

Steve stumbled out of the car and Bucky gently untied the blindfold. The sight that greeted him absolutely breathtaking.

They were parked in the middle of the jungle, a dirt road the only hint of civilization, and standing beside a river that cascaded down from a huge, roaring waterfall. For a moment, Steve just stood, dumbfounded by it all. Bucky grinned at the awestruck look on his friend's face.

T'Challa suddenly materialized behind them, as he did so well. "This has been a place of refreshing for kings and commoners alike for generations. I hope it suits for today."

"It's perfect…" Steve said, slightly dazed. "Thank you, so much."

"Thank your daughter." T'Challa replied. "She noticed it soon after your arrival." He gave a small smile and rested his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Happy Birthday, my friend."

Christy ran up to them, grinning a mile wide. "Do ya like it, Dad?"

For the second time that day, Steve swooped his daughter into a giant hug. "I love it. Thanks, sweetheart."

Wanda walked over with several cloth items in her hand, and tossed two of them at Steve and Bucky. "I took the liberty of getting you a swimsuit when we went out shopping for food ingredients." she explained to Steve. "Well,actually, Bucky did."

Steve nodded appreciatively. "Thanks."

Christy grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Dad; I wanna go swimming!"

Steve laughed. "Alright, alright; lemme go change!"

* * *

It ended up being an absolutely perfect day. The only thing marring it, in Steve's opinion, was the absence of several faces—but the gorgeous scenery was decent compensation.

They swam in the river and under the waterfall for several hours, until the sun began to go down, and everyone started getting hungry.

"So…you guys did remember food, right?" Steve asked Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ we did; more specifically, _I_ did. There's a cooler in the back with food. And your birthday pie."

Steve smiled. "I'm seriously gonna enjoy eating that thing."

After managing to build a fire (thankfully, T'Challa had brought wood and fire starters), in lieu of a grill, Sam pulled several long sticks out of the back of the truck, along with the "main course".

"Are those hot dogs?" Christy asked.

Sam nodded. "Yup, they had 'em. U.S. import and all. Also found these." he added, grabbing several bags of Lays potato chips. "And they even had marshmallows."

Christy cheered. Wanda shook her head. "You Americans and your obsession with everything sugar."

T'Challa nodded slightly. "I have tried marshmallows before, and yet I still fail to see the appeal."

Bucky shrugged, grabbing a hotdog from the pack and wedging it onto the stick for roasting. "More for me, then. I like marshmallows."

"Me too." Pietro added. "Nothing wrong with sugar!"

Wanda gave her brother a look of fond exasperation.

"Can we eat the pie now?" Christy asked.

"You haven't even eaten a hotdog yet!" Sam cried. "Have something with some vague nutritional value first!"

Steve just grinned and grabbed said pie, along with a knife. "Hey, it's my birthday. I've been waiting all day for this!" He cut a slice out and handed it to Christy, and started to hand a second slice to Wanda. It was politely shoved back in his face.

" _Eat_." Wanda said firmly. "Forget manners. It's your day."

Slightly in shock, Steve nodded and took a bite. Pleasure lit up his face like a candle as the tart sweetness rolled over his tongue.

"Good?" Bucky asked, taking the pie dish and continuing to cut slices.

"Yeah…" Steve mumbled around a mouthful of crust. "Good…" he swallowed. "It tastes just like Ma's."

Bucky beamed, glad to have remembered something so well.

As the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, and all the food was slowly (or not so slowly) consumed, T'Challa stood up and looked at Christy. "As promised, I hold up my end of the bargain." He walked over to the car and drew out a bundle of something from the trunk.

Christy squealed. "Yes! Fireworks!"

At Steve's mildly concerned expression, Sam hastened to add, "I brought earplugs, don't sweat."

Steve nodded back gratefully. "I'm alright for a little bit, but sometimes I just…"

"It's alright." Sam assured. "I get it. You don't have to explain it all to me."

After several minutes of finding a lighter and figuring out how to set off a firework (while Wanda kept Christy far, _far_ away), they were ready. T'Challa, who everyone figured would be the most steady and least likely to have a PTSD flashback, got the honor of lighting each fuse.

Pretty soon, bright colors lit up the sky in reds, blues, greens, golds, silvers, and purples, while the air grew thick with smoke.

"Happy Independence Day!" Christy yelled, as the fireworks went _crack-crack-crack_ overhead.

"We're free!" Pietro joined in. "No more hiding! No more Ross! No more locks and no more bars!"

Sam grinned. "I'll drink to that!"

"No more straitjacket." Wanda whispered, a happy smile stretching across her face.

Bucky slung his arm around Steve's shoulders. "You never were one for bein' controlled, Stevie. It's no wonder you were born on the Fourth."

Steve shrugged. "You were never one for being controlled either." he pointed out, a little sadly.

"Yeah…I was an independent kid. But you…from the second you were born, the odds were against ya. Everyone sayin' you weren't gonna live to be twenty. Or thirty. Whatever. But you always proved 'em wrong. A scrappy country that had to fight to exist in the beginning needed a scrappy guy that had to fight for the same thing. That's why…" Bucky paused. "That's why you're always gonna be _Captain America_ , shield or no shield."

Steve let out a long sigh. "I guess you're right."

"I _know_ I'm right." Bucky stared up at the sky. "Some colors, huh, pal?"

A slow smile stretched across Steve's face. "Yeah." he whispered. "Some colors."

As he turned his face to the sky, he couldn't help but think that if he was only alive for this one moment, when by all rights he should be dead, that it was all gloriously worth it. To stand here with his best friend and daughter and those he would call family made the ice and the loneliness and the pain all seem trivial.

Bucky wasn't the only one who'd been given a second chance. So Steve took a deep breath of the humid night air and re-made a silent vow.

 _I'm gonna make this life count. I'm on borrowed time by grace alone…and I'm not gonna waste it._

* * *

 **For the record, guys, I REALLY like fireworks...**

 **The "kidnapping" thing was inspired by something my friends and I did to surprise our mutual friend-we blindfolded her and shoved her in a car and took her somewhere special.**

 **Translations:**

 **"Ewe"- "yes"**

 **"Lilangatye Kancinane"- "little flame"  
**

 **Stay tuned next time for more "unconditioning" sessions, possible involvement of baby lions and panthers, and possible Bucky getting a haircut. (Still deciding on that one...) Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, everyone! I'm really sorry about the wait, but last week was incredibly busy and incredibly tiring, and I actually didn't get the bulk of this chapter written until last night.**

 **Someone mentioned in a review that I should show Christy dealing with nightmares (since I had brought it up as plot point before) and I realized that I hadn't had a "nightmare chapter" for a bit. Eh, what can I say, I like hurt/comfort ;) You also get one of my favorite "unconditioning" scenes and BABY PANTHERS. But Bucky's haircut will be next chapter.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

The most annoying thing about having nightmares, in Sam's opinion, was that he had a hard time remembering exactly what he dreamed.

Some people would think this a blessing, not a problem, but it meant he couldn't follow through on his own advice of talking things out—if he couldn't remember specifics, what was there to discuss? And Sam never liked advising something he didn't practice himself.

Tonight, however, was another story. He'd woken up in a cold sweat with his dream etched to the forefront of his mind.

It had been a jumbled mess of old flashbacks to Reilly getting shot out of the sky, mixed with newer images of Rhodey crashing down from Vision's blast, all covered over with a heaping amount of guilt and helplessness.

 _I was a pararescue and I couldn't do jack! I just…I just had to watch it happen. Both times._

He'd taken several deep breaths and tried to calm down enough to sleep, but his mind and body were not having that tonight, so he got up and padded into the Common Area, towards the kitchen.

 _I need a beer. Or water…or milk…or hot chocolate…_

He had to smile a little at that.

 _I have to hand it to the kid, it's a genius idea. And she wasn't even trying to start a new tradition that night…_

When he reached the Common Area, though, he found that he wasn't the only one awake at this late hour.

Bucky was sitting on one of the couches, scrunched into a ball and looking straight ahead with a thousand-yard stare.

"Hey, Barnes?" Sam called softly. "You in there?"

Abruptly, Bucky jerked back into reality. "Hey, yourself." he said, his voice lower than normal.

Sam sat down across from him in a chair. "Bad dreams?"

"Yeah…" Bucky sighed. "It's been worse since…y'know. I'm remembering things I didn't know I forgot, 'cause they weren't all that important, next to remembering about Steve and…who I used to be. But now they're coming back, and…" he shook his head. "They treated me like crap." he finished, voice dropping to a true whisper.

"That they did." Sam agreed, feeling anger-adrenaline start to course through him. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nothing I haven't already told you before. It was all a re-hash…let's just say I'm really glad that Zola's dead, and move on."

"I'll drink to that." Sam hissed. He'd heard enough about Arnim Zola to know that the man was bad news all around.

"So…what about you?" Bucky asked, cocking his head.

"What about me?"

"Well, unless you've taken to going on moonlit strolls for a new hobby—which, I won't judge…"

Sam gave a low growl. "Y'know, Steve's right. You are a jerk."

"You're the one who wouldn't move your seat up." Bucky muttered childishly.

"Well _you're_ the one who crashed through my car window on the highway…"

"Hey, that's a low one! I didn't even know what I was doing!"

"So you _didn't know_ you were crashing through a car window?"

Bucky folded his arms. "I didn't know I wasn't s'posed to. And anyway, you're dodging the question."

Sam hmphed. "That's my line." But, seeing that he was caught, he added. "It was nightmares, same as you. I…after you and Steve took off, in Leipzig, Vision shot a blast up after me…"

"Wanda told me." Bucky finished. "Vision shot a blast, aimin' for you, and he hit Rhodes instead."

"Crashed him straight to the ground." Sam shook his head. "I…I'm glad it didn't hit me, 'cause I'd've been a goner, but I didn't…" he took a long breath. "Before I jumped on this crazy superhero train and never left, I was in the Air Force. Pararescue; goin' in on helicopters, handling medical stuff. My wingman was a guy named Mark Reilly. One day, we were up flyin' and…an RPG knocked his dumb ass outta the sky. And all I could do was watch."

"I'm sorry." Bucky said sincerely.

"When I saw Rhodes fall…it was like Reilly all over again. Like I was paralyzed. And when I tried to help, Stark shot me off to kingdom come."

Bucky snorted. "Look, Stark's not exactly the most sane, rational thinker while under emotional stress. I…I wouldn't take it personal."

"I didn't." Sam sighed. "Not really. But it was just one more time where I was stuck…I never felt so small. So _helpless_."

The guilt was evident in Sam's voice.

"Hey." Bucky leaned forward earnestly. "It wasn't your fault. With your friend, it was the fault of whoever fired that RPG. Wasn't yours. With Rhodes, it was…dunno. General Ross. Whoever started this whole dumb affair. But not _you_. All you ever do is help people…but you can't save everybody." He shook his head. "You're just like Steve—got the same stupid, noble streak. You're just more subtle. But I know something about guilt, and I don't want you carryin' around what I've gotta deal with day-in, day-out."

Sam let out a long, slow breath. "I knew the day would come when I'd get my words thrown back at me."

Bucky shrugged. "They're true. S'just…"

"Believing them is hard." Sam finished. "It's easy fighting for others; it's harder to fight for yourself."

Bucky grinned a little. "Yeah, but I think that's what friends are for. Or brothers."

"One and the same in this…family." Sam said the word quietly, not exactly sure it was right. And yet he couldn't think of a better one to describe this cobbled-together gang of people.

"Family." Bucky repeated firmly. "Only one I've got now. All things considered, it's not such a bad one. Even if my punk brother doesn't move his seat up."

Sam rolled his eyes, but then turned serious. "Thanks, y'know. For sayin' something."

Bucky nodded back, just as serious. "I've…had a lot of help, the past couple years. Figured it's time I start givin' some back."

Suddenly, the sound of quick movement and low voices sounded from down the hall, coming from Wanda's room, and Christy's.

Sam winced. "Looks like we're not the only ones at the nightmare party tonight."

"Yeah…" Bucky frowned and stood up to peer down the hall. "I wonder if we should check…"

"If it gets worse, yeah, but you don't need too many people around you after a nightmare. How 'bout we…" Sam trailed off as an old memory struck. "'Embrace the whole awake at two in the morning deal'?"

Bucky smiled, remembering the same memory. "I'll get the milk and chocolate powder out. Do we have enough mugs?"

"We better, I'm not giving one up." Sam muttered. "I came out here for a drink."

"Who's the jerk now?" Bucky said, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Still you. C'mon."

* * *

Most days, Pietro enjoyed having a mind connection with his sister. It gave him a safe outlet for his bountiful wells of sarcasm, as well as someone to share things with privately. Some things, however, made him wish the connection would disappear.

Nightmares, for instance.

Wanda could shield her mind pretty well while awake, but when sleeping, she really couldn't. It was the same with him. So any nightmares of his would seep into Wanda's dreams, and vice-versa.

Since the rescue from the Raft, Wanda had been on and off dreaming about the whole affair. But tonight had been bad.

 _"_ _You have to let me out of here! Let me out! Let me go!_ _ **Želim da idem kući! Pusti me odavde! Pusti me!**_ _"_

Pietro's chest felt like a heavy, painful weight as he stumbled the few feet into his sister's room and all but collapsed on her bed.

"Wanda, _probudi te! Molim!_ " he whispered, shaking her lightly. "Please, you have to wake up! You're killing me, _sestra_!"

Slowly, Wanda stopped mumbling and tossing and blinked open her eyes. "Pietro? Did I wake you up?"

Pietro hugged her. "Yes, but it doesn't matter."

"It does." Wanda sounded guilty. "It's my fault. All of it."

"Stop." Pietro hushed her. "What is this about?"

Wanda gave him a look. "You know what this is about! Lagos. Germany. Everything. If I had just…done something else…"

Pietro gave a long sigh. "Wanda. _Moja prelepa sestra_. You're being crazy! I think everybody had a fault for something that happened!" His voice turned to stone. "Like Ross had a fault for locking you up."

Wanda shrugged. "I made my choice."

"They hurt you." Pietro pressed. "When I found you, I was so angry."

"I know you were, _brat_. I saw your face."

"I just…" Pietro trailed off. "I wish they could see you like I do. All they see is a girl with crazy powers. But me…I know you. I wish people could see what I see."

"Vision said something like that." Wanda mused. "When he…"

"Tried to keep you at the base?" Pietro finished, his tone almost a growl.

"You know it wasn't his fault. He's basically two years old for experience. He wasn't ready for something that wasn't black and white…something like this, with so much gray and no one really wrong. But when he said that Stark wanted to avoid another incident, I asked him what _he_ wanted. And he said…'for people to see you as I do.'" Wanda looked down. "So what do you see?"

"Brave." Pietro said instantly. "Smart. Loyal. Caring. Trying very hard and learning as much as you can about your powers. Singlehandedly helping heal seventy years of brainwashing."

Wanda blushed. "Steve and Sam help."

"Yes, _help_ , but you do the work." Pietro wrapped his arms around Wanda's shoulders. "I'm so proud of you. That's why it kills me when people like Ross…they see powers, not a person. Not my sister. And they lock her up like an animal…"

He lapsed into frustrated silence.

"It was bad." Wanda finally admitted softly. "I thought I was going crazy. I _would_ have gone crazy without the others. I couldn't move! And the collar sometimes shocked me if I tried to contact you."

Pietro went rigid. "It hurt you when we talked?"

"No, not every time, but if I had too much emotion or we talked for too long, it would register. It wasn't a bad shock…"

Pietro growled. "Wasn't bad! It shouldn't have happened at all!"

Wanda gave a choked sob. "All I could think was that I wanted to go home. But then I didn't even know where that was, because…we don't belong anywhere. _I_ don't belong anywhere. Not really. Nowhere wants us, any of us. They don't understand."

Her voice was full of despair. Pietro cradled her close against his chest.

"You were invited to stay here by the king of this country." he said slowly. "And the Old Man said you are an Avenger. We belong with… _them_." he gestured vaguely. "All of them. You know, I don't think home's a place. I used to, but…not anymore." He smiled. "The kid showed me this poem…she reads the strangest things!"

"Yes…" Wanda managed a small smile. "She does."

"Anyway, it said that home was…'something you somehow haven't to deserve'." he said, trying not to stumble over the awkwardly-phrased English. "It's where they don't care what you did, they take you anyway and help you get better. No questions."

"'Something you somehow haven't to deserve.'" Wanda repeated, feeling the words chase away her despair.

Pietro was right. It was no longer the two of them against the world. They had a family now; a family they didn't have to earn or deserve.

It felt good.

Pietro turned his head and frowned slightly. "I hear noise." he gave a sad smile. "I don't think you're the only one with a bad dream tonight, _sestra_."

From the direction of Christy's room, they could hear quiet crying and Steve's low voice.

"Oh, _mače…"_ Wanda said, untangling herself from her blanket.

Pietro sighed. "We should let Steve handle it. She always wants him after a nightmare." He shook his head. "I know."

Wanda wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sure she was happy to have you with her at Clint's house. But come on, I hear something in the kitchen. Sounds like the boys."

"What are they doing in the kitchen?" Pietro asked.

"Oh, Sam makes hot chocolate for nightmares. Christy told me it started…soon after they found Bucky."

Pietro licked his lips exaggeratedly. "Sounds good!"

Wanda shook her head. "Come on, _zvekan_." She gave him a kiss. "And thank you."

Pietro shrugged. "It's my job, right? I'd do it anytime."

 _Someone has to, after all…_

* * *

Steve had never been a very heavy sleeper (catching every illness known to man would do that to you) but after the serum, thanks to enhanced hearing, the slightest noise could wake him up. He'd learned to tune some things out, but tonight, he was grateful for the ability.

He had woken up to the sound of crying and his first thought had been for Bucky. But the sobs were too high and too frantic to be Bucky's…so that left only one other person. The one person in the whole world he least wanted to cry.

Dragging himself out of bed, he stumbled down the hall and into Christy's room. Her bear was clutched up tight against her chest and she was crying like the world was ending.

"Hey…" Steve sunk down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

"It—it was real! It was real!" Christy sobbed. "I thought it was real and I was so scared!"

"Shhh…" Steve hushed. "What was real?"

Slowly, Christy managed to calm down and form sentences. "Th-they t-took me away. Th-they s-s-said you were a bad guardian b-b'cause you broke the A-Accords, and they took me away from you!"

"Who?" Steve asked, feeling shock. He knew that nightmares were often nonsensical but who did Christy think had enough power to do such a thing?

"R-Ross. And government people. Random people." Christy took a breath. "Not real people. I know that now. But they were real in the dream!"

Blind anger shot through Steve like a knife. _Ross! Congratulations, bastard, you're now featuring in my daughter's nightmares as the boogeyman! Happy?!_

"He couldn't do that." he assured slowly. "First, because he doesn't even know you exist. And second, because I wouldn't _let him_."

"I-I know." Christy whispered. "I just…"

"This isn't the first time you've dreamed this, is it?" Steve asked.

Christy shook her head. "I used to dream it more before the adoption was finished. Then, it was just that I got taken away for something stupid. I stopped dreaming it after a while, though. But then, the Accords happened, and…"

"And it started up again." Steve filled in. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, baby. But you do know he really couldn't do that, right? No one could, without proof I'd hurt you or put you in danger. No one's taking you away from me."

"I know." Christy repeated. "I just really don't wanna not belong to anybody again. I hated that. People took care of me, but it's not the same. I…I like it when Sam or Uncle Tony calls me Mini-Cap, because that means I'm like you. I belong with you, and I don't wanna leave."

Steve let out another long sigh and held Christy close. "Someday…you're gonna want to leave. Not because someone made you, but because that's what kids _do_. They…" his voice caught. "They grow up. But that doesn't mean you can't come back if you need some help, or need me. I'm always gonna be there for you, baby. I…I'm on your team. And until that day, no one's making you go away from me. Promise."

Christy nodded, knowing that her dad was deadly serious. He never promised anything he didn't keep.

"Thanks, dad." she whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I know it's hard for you to sleep sometimes…"

Steve brushed off the apology. "That's what parents do." he smiled sadly, thinking of his own mother. "They make sacrifices. And it's okay…it comes with the job description."

The door creaked open and Bucky's head poked in. "She okay?"

Steve nodded. "Bad dream."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Join the club, kid. That's four outta six. Five if you count the twins' freaky mind connection."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Is everyone up?"

"Basically. I woke up and then Sam woke up, and then we made hot chocolate."

Christy looked slightly happier. "I like hot chocolate."

"Come get some, then." Bucky said. "We made enough for everybody."

As they made their way into the Common Area, Steve bumped Bucky's shoulder. "Thanks, punk."

Bucky shrugged. "We were all up anyway. Figured if there was gonna be a nightmare party, there might as well be drinks."

"Were you up about something?" Steve asked, concerned.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, nightmares about you-know-what. All these old memories…stuff I hadn't tried to remember or hadn't known I'd forgotten. So much…" he shook his head. "So much pain. And for what? To destroy the world? It makes no sense."

"People like the ones with HYDRA don't make any sense, 'cause they're operating on an entirely different way of thinking." Steve said quietly. "To them, people are expendable because they're threats to order. But we know better." He grabbed a mug from the coffee table.

"Yeah…" Bucky couldn't help but smile. "We know better."

It wasn't a conventional thing, to be drinking hot chocolate at two-thirty in the morning. It wasn't even ideal.

But for now, it was a thing, and it was alright because they were together. And together, they could chase back the nightmares with one simple truth:

Whatever came next, they were not alone.

* * *

Steve ran his finger down the list of words. "One, two, three…four, five, six…seven. We're over halfway." he stated, with mild surprise.

" _Good_." Bucky said feelingly, trying to take slow, deep breaths and failing a bit.

"Your breathing isn't smooth." Wanda said, twisting the red tendrils between her fingers. "You should try to relax."

Bucky shot her a glare. "I don't tell you how to warm up your glowy red magic."

Steve started to tell his friend to lay off, but Wanda threw her hair back. "I'm only saying what Sam told you. You know I'm right."

Bucky relented. "Fine." he muttered, taking a more relaxed breath in and out. "Happy?"

"I'm trying to _help_." Wanda pointed out.

"I know." Bucky said, feeling like a complete heel. "Sorry. Just wound up."

Wanda softened. "I know. It's not easy. But, like Steve said, we're over halfway. This is really going very well."

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, better than I thought. Is the next one weird? The last two were."

The words he was referring to had been "nine" and "benign." Benign was fairly obvious, relating to HYDRA's lies about how "kind" they were to their Asset, but nine was, like seventeen, connected to strange numerology. ("They must've offered a class," Steve had joked grimly.) Apparently nine was, in some cultures, a number of completion; symbolizing HYDRA's complete control over Bucky's mind.

That one had been hard to fight, but Wanda had used the memory of "The Bridge" that Steve had shown her to push back the lie. In the end, HYDRA's brainwashing had never been complete, because all it had taken to crack it had been one word: his own name.

For "benign," she had called up more recent memories of friendship and kindness, reminding Bucky what it actually looked like to be treated with respect. "Benign" had been easier to repel, given Bucky's growing realization of his terrible treatment by HYDRA.

Steve frowned down at the "list". "Next is 'homecoming'." he said.

"Well, this oughta be fun." Bucky muttered. He put on an exaggerated Russian accent, "Vvvelcome home, _Ziminy Soldat_. Now you serve Mother Rrrusia!"

Steve smirked. "Be glad Natasha's not here."

"Natasha would agree with me! She defected, remember?"

Wanda sighed. " _Boys_ …are we ready?"

Steve and Bucky snapped to stillness and nodded. "Ready." Bucky replied.

"On my mark." Steve said quietly. "Get set…" he took a breath. " _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu_."

He'd practiced this one the longest of all, to get all the syllables correct.

Bucky gave a violent twitch and Wanda jumped in mentally.

Her first sight was of a dim, gray room; but one that was somewhat bigger and less cluttered than others she had seen in the memories. There were people walking about, heading wherever they were needed. A short, dark-haired man with far too many medals to have won them honestly stood beside none other than Bucky.

He was dressed in his signature blackish-brown leather, his hair reaching to his chin, and his eyes already looked weary and confused.

The short man glanced at him and gave a triumphant smile. _"This is a homecoming for you,_ _ **Soldat**_ _. You will stay here now, and we will give you your missions, your purpose."_

Bucky just blinked slowly, clearly wary to speak.

The memory filled with perhaps the vilest emotion Wanda had encountered yet: complete acceptance.

 _HomecominghomehomethisishomewhereIbelongpurposemissionthisismyhomenow…_

 _"_ _NO!"_ Wanda let loose a mental scream and her powers pulsed with ferocity. _"This is NOT your home! No, no, NO! Do not believe them!"_

The man gave a soft, nasty-sounding laugh. _"Such a great revenge, is it not? The Americans lose two heroes…and we profit from their loss!"_ He tsked. _"Ah, but you don't understand me, do you,_ _ **Soldat?**_ _"_ He patted Bucky's arm in a way that made Wanda's skin crawl. _"Just know that you have been…repatriated. This is your_ _ **vozvrashcheniye na rodinu**_ _."_

Wanda felt her temper flare up quite a bit. Sokovia had been a Soviet puppet state during the heyday of the Eastern Bloc, and as a consequence, nationalism now ran high. On that point, she could sympathize with Bucky; taken away from home and forced to become "the enemy" of his own homeland—and everyone else's.

 _"_ _He is American,_ _ **tupan**_. _"_ Wanda hissed mentally. _"And you will not be getting him back!"_

Concentrating hard, she pushed back against Bucky's passive acceptance and the man's lies with another memory.

 _"_ _ **This**_ _is your real homecoming!"_

A tall, skinny, blonde-haired girl cautiously approached a hoodie-clad man in an alley. _"Are…are you looking for someone, mister?"_

 _"_ _The man on the bridge…"_ The man whispered. " _I knew him."_

 _"_ _He's looking for you."_

 _"_ _He shouldn't be…"_

 _"_ _He'll never stop. 'Till the end of the line, remember?"_

 _"'_ _Cause I'm with ya…'till the end of the line."_

Slowly, almost painfully, the blind acceptance started to drain out of the memory. Blind grief and anger replaced it.

 _MyhomethisismyNONONONONOTMYHOMELIESLIESLIESLIARSALLLIESIbelonghereNOIBELONGWITHSTEVE!_

It was like a mental tug of war as Bucky's emotions battled between themselves. Wanda aided as best she could, fortifying his resistive streak.

At last, it seemed the entire aura of the memory had done a complete 180. Where there had been nothing but acceptance and passivity, there was now strong sadness and even hints of anger.

 _This is better than before…but I won't leave him here…_

With one last push of concentration, Wanda pulled all the hope she could muster into the scene before her.

 _This is not the end…it didn't stop here. They gave you a counterfeit, just like_ _ **rasvyet**_ _. There was a better daybreak they wanted you to forget, and when you threw off their chains, there was a better homecoming waiting for you. Never forget that._

It worked; the hope infused into the memory until the aura grew bittersweet. It would never be a happy memory, but it would be one that didn't cause pain—or brainwashing.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to back out. Bucky lay back against his chair with his eyes clenched shut and his face soaked—in tears or perspiration, Wanda couldn't tell. Steve was sitting still, his face full of concern like always.

"Okay?" he asked lowly, glancing at Wanda.

Wanda shrugged. "Seemed so."

"Bucky?" Steve called a little louder.

Bucky finally opened his eyes. A small amount of sadness still lurked in them, but none of the passivity Wanda had sensed.

"Welcome home, pal." Steve said, his voice sounding clogged. He reached over and half-smothered his friend in an embrace.

As they broke apart, Bucky muttered, "I like your 'welcome home' better than the Colonel's."

"Who was he, anyway?" Wanda asked. "I didn't recognize him, but I don't think he earned all those medals the correct way. He looked too young for that."

Bucky made a face. "Who knows? Prob'ly dead." His face screwed up again. "'Just know that you have been…repatriated.'" he mimicked, putting on a thick accent once more. "Well, too bad for you, fella—I'm American! We don't take control kindly!"

" _You_ don't take control kindly." Steve said fondly, his eyes shining.

" _Stubborn_." Wanda hissed, in the same amused-but-exasperated tone she used for Pietro. "Stubborn boys."

Bucky shrugged, his mouth turning up at the corners. "Guilty as charged." He leaned back against the seat. "I need a break."

"Same." Wanda said, stifling a yawn. These sessions required a lot of mental work on her part, and she very often slept afterwards.

Steve helped both of them up. "C'mon. Let's get back and you two can nap. Or watch Sam teach T'Challa the finer points of Monopoly."

Bucky shook his head. "Oh, God, I'd pay to see that."

Steve smirked. "Lucky for you, you don't have to pay at all."

As they walked back to their living quarters, Bucky felt something bright swell up inside him.

 _This_ was home. This was where he belonged; surrounded by his oldest friend and a myriad of newer ones. This was where he stopped trying to escape.

This was where he was free.

 _Welcome home, me_. He thought, smiling a little. _And I'm not leaving anytime soon._

* * *

Christy tugged at the soft, dark cloth that covered her eyes. "Was the blindfold really necessary?" she asked, trying not to whine, but feeling frustrated.

T'Challa, who sat beside her in the back of the shiny black limo, laughed. "Yes, _omncinci_ , the blindfold is really necessary. It is a surprise."

Christy folded her arms. "How do I know you're not kidnapping me?"

T'Challa shook his head and played along. "First, because I am a man of honor. Second, I have seen Miss Romanoff fight and have no doubt she passed some of her skill onto you. You are not someone I would like to be an enemy of."

Christy nodded slowly and uncrossed her arms. "That's fair, I guess. And Aunt Tasha did teach me to fight."

"All the more reason for me to avoid antagonizing you." T'Challa took her hand gently. "I promise you will like this surprise. Guaranteed."

"O _kay_ …"

At last the vehicle stopped moving and Christy heard T'Challa say something to the driver in Wakandan. She heard the door open and T'Challa tapped her shoulder.

"Come with me, _umzala_. Your surprise is this way."

Still feeling incredibly disoriented, but trusting T'Challa, Christy grabbed his hand and walked awkwardly into…somewhere. She could hear voices and other strange sounds, something that sounded like…

"You can take the blindfold off now, little one."

Christy reached up and undid the cloth as quickly as possible. As she blinked and adjusted to the light, her jaw nearly hit the ground.

Before her was an enclosure with several small _panther cubs_.

"Is this a zoo?" she whispered, thunderstruck.

T'Challa smiled. "It is a nature preserve and rescue center, making sure that our wild animals stay wild, but also get the care they need. The mother of these little ones was found badly injured and died a short time ago. So the cubs are being raised here, until they can be released. I thought you might enjoy seeing them."

Christy let out a tiny squeal and edged closer to the enclosure wall. "Hi babies." she whispered. "Hi. Hi. You're cute. Who's a cute little national symbol? You are!"

T'Challa's already wide smile got even wider. He glanced questioningly at one of the workers, and received a nod in response.

"Would you like to hold one?" he asked

Christy spun around, her eyes shining like stars. "Can I?" she whispered.

The worker, a young woman, stepped forward. "You must be very careful and let them come to you. But you may touch them, and hold them if they let you."

Christy nodded earnestly. "I'll be good."

She was led into the enclosure and sat down on the small wooden bench. One of the curious cats started over towards her immediately.

The woman smiled. "That is Jama; he is always the first to explore something new."

Jama started rubbing up against Christy's leg, and finally climbed up the bench.

"Hi…" Christy said, reaching out to pet the cub gently. "Hi kitty. Good kitty…"

The other cubs soon came over as well, curious as to what the fuss was all about. Christy felt like she was in heaven.

"They're so cute!" she kept gushing.

 _They aren't the only cute ones…_ T'Challa thought, covertly snapping pictures for Steve and the others.

The lady worker, whose name was Nceba, finally snapped Christy out of her dream world with another dream.

"It is getting time for their feeding." she said. "Would you like to help?"

Christy's mouth dropped open. "Would I?!" she said in a strangled squeal. "Yes, please!"

Nceba laughed. "Come. Their milk formula and bottles are over here."

Together, they mixed the formula for the cubs' dinner and placed it carefully into angled plastic bottles. When they returned into the enclosure, the cubs came over immediately, yowling for food.

"They know it is time for food." Nceba said. "Come and sit down again."

Christy glanced at the bottle. "I fed my baby cousin before, but not a baby animal."

"It is not so different than feeding a human baby. Make sure to keep the bottle up like this." Nceba demonstrated by tilting the bottle up slightly and putting it near one cub's nose. The little cat quickly latched on and started sucking. "Here, you can feed Lindani. She is mostly still."

Lindani had already climbed up the bench and was looking very eager for dinner. Christy gently tipped the bottle up and put it near her nose. "Here, Lindani. Good girl. Here's dinner."

The bottle was emptied in short order, leaving the cub's dark muzzle stained white with milk.

"Good girl." Christy murmured again, giving her a pet. "Good baby."

After all the cubs had drunk their fill and lay saturated in the dirt, T'Challa walked into the enclosure. "We will need to leave soon…"

Christy gave him her best puppy-dog eyes. "Couldn't I please see some of the other animals?"

T'Challa relented (who wouldn't?). "Yes, yes; of course you may."

Christy smiled. _That look always works…_

After viewing the rest of the animals (including _lions_ , her absolute favorite), Christy finally allowed T'Challa to lead her out of the reserve, back to where the limo was waiting. They both thanked Nceba, and then got into the vehicle once more.

As they drove away, Christy said quietly, "Thank you very much for bringing me here."

T'Challa nodded, his eyes shining. "You are most welcome. I think the 'national symbols' enjoyed you as well."

Christy kicked her leg out a little. "It's just…I'm sure you had other stuff to do today."

T'Challa groaned, thinking of the paperwork still on his desk. "I _always_ have other things to be doing. But this…this I wanted to do. I wanted you to see more of my country than just the city."

"Thank you." Christy echoed. "And your country is pretty."

T'Challa acknowledged the compliment with a smile. They lapsed into silence for a few moments, until Christy asked, "So…who ended up winning that Monopoly game the other day, after I got out?"

" _Pietro_ of all people." T'Challa muttered disgustedly. "Sam was not pleased."

"Doesn't sound like you were, either." Christy pointed out, grinning. "But that's Monopoly for ya. Ruining relationships since 1935! That's what Dad says, anyway."

T'Challa had to laugh at that.

"I'm glad we came here." Christy added, looking out the window. "We needed to go somewhere far away after everything. Somewhere quiet with no bad memories." She smiled a little. "Somewhere safe. I like it here."

"I am glad." T'Challa whispered, once more folding his hand over Christy's. "I am very glad indeed."

* * *

 **Awww! Complete and utter vicarious enjoyment for me...I LOVE baby animals! Just animals in general. And I watch way too many baby wild animal clips on YouTube.  
**

 **Translations (All Serbian/"Sokovian" unless noted):**

 **Želim da idem kući! Pusti me odavde! Pusti me!: "** **I want to go home! Let me out of here! Let me out!"**

 **Probudi te! Molim!: "Wake up! Please!"  
**

 **Sestra: "Sister"**

 **Brat: "Brother"**

 **Moja prelepa sestra: "My beautiful sister"**

 **M** ** **ače: "Kitten"** **

****Zvekan: "Silly"****

 ** **Ziminy Soldat: "Winter Soldier" (Russian)****

 ** **Tupan: (according to googletranslate...) "Dumb*******

 ** **Omncinci: "Little One" (Xhosa/"Wakandan")****

 ** **Hope that was worth the wait. Tune in next time for "Freight Car" and a giant mess of feels, as well as Bucky-gets-a-haircut, we-burn-the-HYDRA-book, and an interesting offer from Clint. Until then...****

 ** **Reviews are wonderful things...****


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, everybody! I'm sorry for the wait...the week sort of got away from me. Enjoy chapter thirteen!**

 **In other news, I have more than one Spiderman theme song stuck in my head. The little Webhead's gotten to me!**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

" _Odin…_ " Steve called out firmly. His accent left a little to be desired, but not much.

Wanda breathed in and pushed herself forward mentally. Bucky seemed less agitated physically than he had been for the previous word.

 _Maybe this one won't be so hard to push back…_

Once again, she was taking in the sight of another HYDRA base; all gray and damp and muted.

 _They couldn't have thought to recruit any interior decorators?_

The same young colonel from the "homecoming" memory, was standing in a small crowd of men, speaking very loud in Russian, while Bucky stood beside him like a stiff statue.

 _"_ _He is the only one of his kind."_ the Colonel stated proudly, like a child showing off a new toy. _"Cut off from the past, from any sort of framework other than what he is told…it's a genius thing! No worries about defection or anything of that sort. No damnable_ _ **emotion**_ _."_ He gave a feral smile. _"Only action and obedience."_

 _"_ _But, sir…"_ one of the men said timidly. _"Isn't he…human?"_

 _"_ _Bah!"_ The Colonel waved his hand dismissively. _"If he still is, he is like no human ever born. A lesser creature, created anew to do the hard work of shaping the world in our image."_

Wanda felt like she was going to be sick. Bucky in the memory just _stood there_ , letting the evil man's words wash over him and soak into his being.

 _A lesser creature, created anew…_

The memory's aura, deceptively light at first, now swirled about strongly: a bad mix of exhaustion and shame.

 _WorthlessunlessIdomymissionworthlesslessercreaturenothumannotnumannothumanactionandobedienceonlyobediencebecomelikenothingbecauseyouarenothing…_

 _"_ _STOP IT!"_

Power shot out from Wanda almost like a reflex. _"You are not a 'lesser creature'! You are not!"_

 _GunassassinkillerSLAVEgunassassinkillerSLAVE…_

The mocking words rolled through the memory like a curse.

 _The only one of his kind…_

 _Only one…only one…_ _ **one**_ _._ _ **Odin**_ _._

Wanda took a long, deep breath. It seemed there was more to this memory than she had thought. Like the one connected to "rusted," this memory grabbed at the core of Bucky's identity.

 _Alone…only one. Monster. Twisted._

She could hear the words swirling around through the memory's aura, suffocating and raw. And, suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

 _"_ _Bucky…you're not the only one…"_

Gritting her teeth, she summoned one of her own memories—one that took place soon after she and Pietro had been experimented on.

 _"_ _Red…so much red and so much pain. They wouldn't let me see Pietro. I was alone…alone and scared. Strucker said we were miracles…I felt more like a demon…"_

She pushed in, red energy flowing like a fast river current; lies washed away by truth.

 _"_ _You are not the only one. They lied, again, like they always did."_

The shame pulsing in the memory started to evaporate, as her words sunk in—deeper that the Colonel's. The exhaustion remained.

 _Not surprised._ Wanda thought, gazing over the scene once more. _He looks so tired._

Once more, she let her power loose, but this time more gently. It bathed the memory in a hazy glow.

 _Peace…be still. This was not the end. You can sleep now, Bucky…_

When everything felt stable, she pulled out. For once, Bucky was actually sitting up with his eyes open.

"Better?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded mutely, looking dazed. "They…they hurt you pretty bad, huh?" he whispered finally, looking at Wanda.

"Yes." Wanda said quietly. "But for you, it was worse. I had my brother, eventually. You had no one."

" _Odin_ …" Bucky said, faintly bitter. "The only one." He was pleased when the memory that came up was no longer triggering anything. It was still faintly covered in Wanda's calming emotional glow.

"Not anymore." Steve said, slinging his arm around Bucky's shoulders. "I don't care what they told you, you're not alone anymore, Buck. Never again."

Bucky shut his eyes. "They acted like I wasn't human." he said chokingly. "Some of 'em outright said it. Easier, I guess, to mess with someone that isn't really a person…"

Steve's eyes hardened to ice and Wanda could _feel_ him counting backwards from ten.

"There's a lot of great technology now." he said slowly, holding back his anger. "A lot of great science. But so far as I know, there's no man or machine that can give or take away humanity. Nobody down here has that kinda power. Not even HYDRA." he sneered. " _Especially_ not HYDRA."

Bucky sighed. "I know. I _know_."

"It's like you said." Wanda added. "It was a lie they told themselves to feel better about what was done to you."

Bucky nodded, eyes drooping. "Were you serious about sleep?" he asked, glancing at Wanda.

"Obviously." Wanda said. " _I_ don't lie. Not to you, anyway."

A faint smile tugged at Bucky's lips. "Nah…I know you don't."

He shuddered a bit as he rose to his feet. HYDRA had dealt a tragic blow to his confidence and self-esteem…but maybe it wasn't a killing blow. He knew, from memories and Steve's stories, that he had been pretty cocky and boisterous in the old days.

Some days, that persona came easily. Others…not so much. Those were the days he could still hear words like "not human" and "lesser creature" ringing in the back of his head.

But now he had ammo to throw back at those words: the knowledge that he was not the only one who had endured trauma from terrible people.

 _"_ _I've gotta get me back…can't be beat, and that's a fact…"_ The song lyric jumped into his head like a splash of water.

He smiled a little.

 _"_ _I'll 'get me back'…one step at a time."_

* * *

"Hey, Laura, you're never gonna guess what's happening!"

Laura raised her eyebrows as Clint came into the living room, where she was resting on the couch. Lila and Cooper were out back playing and Nathaniel was asleep, so she was stealing a moment to herself. "What?"

Clint looked slightly sweaty from some sort of exertion. "The Mansion's finally getting' sold."

"The Mansion" was the general nickname for the large white house that sat on the hill to the right of the Barton's place. It was old, built in the early 1960's as a farmhouse-style vacation home, though it had since been refurbished and now had all the modern conveniences. It was currently owned by an older couple, who had been enjoying a peaceful retirement.

"The Pendowski's are selling?" Laura asked, frowning. "Is the place getting to be too much to handle?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah, something like that. I saw a 'for sale' sign in the yard and went up to ask about it. Apparently they've got kids in Virginia, so they're gonna move closer to them."

"Good." Laura said. "I'm glad they'll be with family, though I will miss them. They've been good neighbors."

"I know." Clint sat down, a faint gleam in his eye. "But…maybe we'll get some even better ones."

Laura narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What are you plotting?"

Clint spread his hands. "I talked to Nat earlier this week. She's heard through the usual channels that our wayward friends may be coming in from the cold soon. If they do…they'll need a place to stay."

Laura didn't outright dismiss the idea (always a plus in Clint's mind). Instead, she asked, "Did Nat hear through the 'usual channels' if our wayward friends had any dates narrowed down?"

"She heard 'early September'. Apparently, Barnes has made a pretty good recovery."

"Oh, it worked?" Laura cried, smiling a little. Clint had filled her in on Wanda's part in helping Bucky undo the programming. "I'm so glad. And proud of Wanda."

"Yup. Our little girl is really growing up." Clint replied, definitely feeling paternal. While he would be happy to have all the rest of the group back stateside, he'd missed the twins in particular. And he wasn't the only one.

"So, middle of September." Laura muttered pensively. "It's August now. Do you think if you talked to the Pendowski's, they might wait? Or could you just buy it now, and Steve could get you the money later. I think we have enough saved for a down payment…"

"Nah." Clint cut in gently. "No way in hell I'm takin' that away from Steve. He…I don't think he's ever actually had a place of his own, at least one that he bought with his own money. I think he deserves the chance."

Laura nodded. "I understand. So that leaves convincing them to wait…is the house even big enough for everyone?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, we don't call it The Mansion for nothin'. I think they said…five bedrooms, three bathrooms, somethin' like that. Some people would have to double up, so it wouldn't be like the base but…"

"But it would be a home." Laura finished. She frowned. "I'm not saying this is a bad idea. I love it, honestly. But it could be a risk. You're not exactly a high-profile Avenger, and you stayed out of this mess pretty well. But Steve, and definitely Bucky, and probably Wanda…"

Clint swallowed hard. Fury had gotten Ross to call off the hunt, but he hadn't quite secured them all official pardons, at least not anything in writing. This would be bringing trouble to his front door; something he'd actively tried to avoid doing.

 _But family has to stick together…_

"You and me are in this together, like always." he said finally. "What are you thinking? Is it worth the risk?"

Laura finally nodded. "I knew when I married you that I wasn't signing up for a cakewalk. A little risk is alright. And…they need to come home. I'm sure that palace is nice and all, but…they need a home."

Clint nodded back in agreement. "I think so, too." He gave Laura a kiss. "Have I told you lately that you're the most fantastic woman in the world?"

Laura smirked. "Maybe…but I could stand to hear it again."

"You _are_ the most fantastic woman in the world. Hands down, no arguing." Clint leaned against his wife and gave a contented sigh.

 _Now, to make some calls…_

* * *

Today was the day. The day of days. Bucky legitimately thought he was going to be sick.

"Breathe." Steve said firmly, his own face not exactly the picture of calm.

Bucky scowled. "I'm breathin', I'm breathin'."

Wanda's eyes were shut tight, red energy twisting through her fingers.

There was no question as to what the word was this time. Or, more specifically, word _s_.

 _Gruzovoy vagon_. Freight Car.

 _Train_ Car. The start of seventy years of hell for Bucky, and for Steve, in his own way.

Wanda couldn't help but feel foreboding. Most of these "unconditiong" sessions had been difficult or tiring, but this was the phrase, and the memory, that started it all. It was bound to be harder than the others to deal with.

At last, Steve took a deep breath. "Well…wanna get this show on the road? Last time."

Bucky shuddered. "A'ight." he slurred, looking nervous. He glanced at Wanda, and then back at Steve. "Look, whatever happens…you two have been great. And Sam…everybody. Thank you."

Wanda opened her eyes. "Thank you for letting me do this. It has been nice, using my powers to heal, and not to hurt."

Bucky managed a nod. "Glad you got practice. Glad it worked! Hey, when this is all over, can we burn the HYDRA book?"

Steve grinned. "Sure, pal. We'll burn it. It'll be a ceremony."

"With marshmallows." Bucky added. "We still have some left over from the Fourth."

"With marshmallows." Steve agreed. "Now…are you ready?"

Bucky and Wanda both took giant, steadying breaths. "Ready." Bucky said, his voice like a ghost of its normal self. Wanda nodded.

"On my mark." Steve said, his heart hammering like a drum. "Get set… _Gruzovoy vagon_."

Bucky gave a violent shudder and a low cry of pain. Wanda let out her held breath and shut her eyes, allowing herself to jump forward mentally.

She was met by a familiar scene. Only this time, it began a bit earlier, with Bucky being blasted out of the train and onto the side.

Pain and terror shot through the memory, with none of the Winter Soldier "cloudiness" to mask anything. This was Bucky Barnes, twenty-seven years old; young and panicking.

 _Hurtshurtshurtsfallinggottagrabthesidegotitbutwhere'sSteve…_

 _"_ _Bucky!"_ came Steve's cry. _"Hang on, grab my hand!"_

Wanda could feel Bucky's desperation as he stretched his hand as far as it could go…and then the blind horror and panic as he lost his grip and fell. His screams echoed through the canyon.

 _StopitstopitstopitgonnadiediedieOurFatherwhoartinheavenOhGoddon'tletmediepleaseIjustwannalivedon'tletmedie…_

He thudded to a halt in the deep snow—but his arm landed partially on a hidden, sharp rock. The impact caused the skin to tear and a sickening crunch proclaimed that the bone was broken clear through.

Bucky let out a wounded howl and pain enveloped the entire memory.

 _Makeitstopmakeitstopjustletmediealreadymakeitstop!_

Mercifully, the memory faded to black. But not for long. It picked up again to the sound of voices speaking in Russian and Bucky being dragged along through the snow, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

Anger shot through Wanda. _They couldn't have picked him up?!_

Again, the memory blacked out, but something else was swirling about in Bucky's mind, something dark and malevolent.

 _Abandoned, left to die…_ a voice crooned. _Found by those who would shape the world in their image…taken to become the perfect weapon…_

 _You will always belong to us. On the_ _ **gruzovoy vagon**_ _, whatever your life was before, it ended. You are dead, and your new life begins…_

Having heard enough, Wanda started to let her power loose, pushing forward against the darkness like before.

But suddenly, she felt herself thrown backwards. Her eyes shot open and she realized that she had been pushed out of Bucky's head.

"What happened?" Steve asked, taking in her shocked expression. "What's wrong?"

"I-it pushed me out!" Wanda gasped, shaking. "It pushed me out!"

Bucky had snapped back to reality as well. "It's strong." he said, his voice a dead rasp. "I can…feel it. The programming's strong on this one." He shut his eyes and _moaned_. "I dunno why I ever thought I could get rid of it…"

He sounded absolutely despairing.

Steve looked at Wanda, panic shooting out of his eyes. "Do I need to say the word again? Can you fight it?"

Something about Steve ( _Steve!_ ) panicking and Bucky's dead-sounding voice sent new strength to Wanda. "No." she said firmly. "I can do this. I _will_ do this." Leaning forward, she grabbed Bucky's shoulder and shook it. "Bucky! Listen to me!"

Slowly, Bucky's eyes opened. "Y-yeah?"

"Do you trust me?"

Bucky blinked, desperately trying to process the question above the loud ring of programming in his head. "Yes." he said finally.

Wanda looked straight into his eyes. "Do you believe I can break this?"

"I...I don't...yeah, I guess..."

"No guess." Wanda's voice was unyielding. "Yes or no. Because I will fight as hard as I can...but you need to help me. There is too much despair in your head. I need you to believe I can actually do something."

Bucky sighed, hard and fast. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and then tore open with a vengeance. "I believe it." he said, voice ringing. "I trust you."

Wanda couldn't help but smile. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated hard and pushed herself back into Bucky's head once more.

The memory was all swirling snow and ice and pain, and the programming was giving its own mental voice-over.

 _You belong to us and you will never leave, you cannot escape. Your friends are dead and your life is gone, and now you serve_ _ **us**_ _…_

 _"_ _ **NO**_ _!"_ Wanda shouted, mentally and physically, tendrils of red shooting out like fire. _"You lost! You lost him and you will not get him back! I refuse! I refuse! We all refuse!"_

For a long time, she didn't even try to think anything, just letting her power wash over the programming like a flood.

At last, the evil aura began to flag. Wanda gave one last hard _push_ and it sputtered out like a candle.

All that remained was the memory of pain and cold and numbness; being dragged through the snow like lumber.

Wanda sighed. _"I am so sorry…unfortunately, I don't have mental aspirin…"_

Or did she…?

Concentrating, she focused in on the emotion and released the same gentle healing glow as last time.

 _"_ _Sleep…sleep and dream of another dawn, another day…and when you wake you will see our faces…"_

Slowly, the pain began to fade. But Wanda continued to let the soothing aura penetrate all through the memory for a while.

 _I can never make this happy...and I shouldn't try. You need to remember this, even though it's painful..._

 _But I will dull the pain with hindsight. What they tried to take backfired on them...and you won._

Finally, she eased out of the memory and opened her eyes to Steve's hesitant look. "It…did it work?" he whispered.

"Only one way to find out." Wanda replied, giving Bucky a glance. His skin was glistening with sweat and several dark spots on his shirt indicated that he needed a shower, and a change of clothes.

Still he looked at her and nodded. "Say it." he said to Steve, low and rough.

" _G-Gruzovoy vagon…_ " Steve choked out.

Nothing happened. Bucky gave a deep sigh from somewhere in his very bones. "I'm alright." he said quietly. "But…why stop there?" A glint of steel appeared in his eyes. "Say 'em all."

"Buck, you sure?" Steve asked, concerned. "You look a little wiped…"

"If their power is really broken, it won't matter, Stevie." Bucky gave a half-grin. "So say 'em, already."

"Alright…" Steve glanced down at the book.

"But wait!" Bucky motioned for Wanda to come closer. They conferred in whispers for a moment, and then Bucky said, "Okay, go."

Steve nodded. " _Z-zhelaniye… prorzhavevshiy… semnadtsat'… rassvyet._ "

Bucky sat still, grinning a little. Steve took another steadying breath.

" _Pech'…devyat'…dobrokachestvennaya…"_

Again, nothing happened. Steve breathed in and out one last time…

" _Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu…odin_ …"

He paused.

" _Gruzovoy vagon._ "

Dead silence greeted the last words.

 _"_ _Soldat?_ " Wanda queried, attempting to make her voice sound deep.

Bucky grinned, bright and feral. " _Not_ ready to comply. My name is Bucky, and I'm not a weapon, thanks. Find another soldier."

Steve let out an inarticulate cry and launched himself at his friend.

It was over. The programming was broken.

Everything was finally going to be okay.

* * *

"So, Clint, what's so all-fired important that you needed us to Skype you 'right away'?" Steve asked, making air quotes around "right away".

Clint rolled his eyes. "First of all, never do that again. You look like a teenage girl."

"Hey!" Christy piped up. "As an almost-teenage girl, I take offense to that!"

Clint's face actually morphed into a wide-eyed look of shock for a moment. Steve could practically _feel_ him calculating Christy's age.

"Yes, Barton, she is really eleven." Sam chimed in.

"Twelve soon!" Christy added.

Wanda gave her a look. "Eight months is _soon_?"

"Well, sorta…"

"Anyway!" Steve cut in. "You were saying, Clint?"

Clint crossed his arms and looked extremely pleased with himself. "I've found you guys a house."

Complete silence greeted this proclamation.

"I…I'm sorry, _what?_ " Steve asked.

"A house! Y'know, for when you head stateside. It'll be soon, right?"

Steve frowned. "Yeah, soon enough. But we hadn't exactly set a date…"

Clint sighed. "Look, we have these neighbors that are selling their house. It's big; we call it The Mansion for a joke. It's got something like five bedrooms and a nice yard and it's literally up the hill from us…"

"Clint, I can't…" Steve trailed off. "That's seriously tempting fate. You want the most wanted people in the world living five hundred feet from your family?"

"Technically, you're not wanted anymore…"

"You know what I mean! It's too big a risk!"

"It might not be such a bad idea, Steve." Sam said quietly. "Not like anyone knows where Clint lives. It's in the middle of scenic nowhere."

"Wait…" Pietro interrupted. "If you have neighbors, how come they never noticed anything like giant planes landing in your backyard?"

Clint grinned. "Oh, they noticed. They just…weren't the type to care. They're older; lived long enough to see enough crap. Emigrated from Poland after the last World War. I said something early on about a job in the government, and they've never asked questions since. But they're moving on—gonna move to where their kids are. And they were the closest neighbors we've got. Everything else…you've seen it. Nothing but farmland and woods for miles."

There was a long pause as Steve appeared to be mulling the idea over.

"Can we think about it and get back to you?" he asked.

Clint nodded. "Oh, yeah, absolutely. I mentioned to them that I had a friend who might be interested, so it's tentatively off the market. But I do need to know sorta soon."

"Alright. We'll call you back later, Clint."

"Roger that, Rogers."

Steve groaned. "Ya had to make that one, huh?"

Clint just smirked. "Signing off." he said, ending the call.

Steve closed the laptop and glanced around the room. "Hey…where's Bucky? In his room?"

Wanda and Pietro gave each other a quick glance.

"He said he was going out, earlier." Wanda said, calm as anything. "Something about 'have to run an errand'. T'Challa went with him."

Steve looked mildly confused. "Did he say anything else?"

Wanda just shrugged. Pietro grinned. "Yes, he did say something else. Also said don't tell you the something else."

Steve shook his head. "Fine. Never mind; I'll tell him when he gets back. So…what are you guys thinking?"

Sam, predictably, was the first to speak. "It's the first good option we've gotten. We can't go back to the base, probably. We can't go back to the city right now, either. It's quiet enough and peaceful enough to be a home base…"

Pietro shook his head. "Not home base." he insisted. " _Home_. We need one. A real one. A house with a kitchen and a living room and a little space but not too much, not so it feels too big, and a backyard to play sports and space to run…"

He managed to stop himself, but he couldn't manage to hide the longing in his voice. Wanda elbowed him softly.

"You've been plannin' this for a while, huh?" Steve asked.

"Since I was ten years old." Pietro gave a sad smile. "I used to lay on my bed in the orphanage and dream about the house we would have when I was big and could earn money. Or if someone adopted us. But I didn't really think that would happen." He gave Steve a firm look. "If you don't buy this house, I will."

"You don't have enough…" Sam started.

"I'll get a job. McDonalds. Whatever." Pietro's eyes were burning. "Please. I want this."

Steve gave a long sigh. "Wanda?"

Wanda looked up from the ground. "I just want to be safe." she murmured.

Steve nodded back. "Point taken." he said gently.

He turned to Christy, who had been strangely silent. "Christy?"

"I…I haven't lived in a house since I was six years old."

Her tone was full of quiet wonder, not accusation, but the words still sent a sucker punch to Steve's gut.

"I guess it would be nice to try it again. And nice to be near Uncle Clint and Aunt Laura."

There was another long pause.

"Call it, Steve." Sam said finally.

"Not without Bucky." Steve insisted. "Besides, even if Ross has called off the hunt, there's still the chance someone's gonna recognize him from the news and then…"

Suddenly, there came the sound of a door opening, and a figure strode into the Common Area: a tall man with short brown hair and a familiar blue jacket.

"Uncle Bucky?" Christy whispered.

Steve looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Bucky came and sat down on the couch beside Steve. "I got a haircut." he said, by way of explanation.

"Obviously." Pietro deadpanned.

Wanda smiled and gave Bucky a semi-critical once-over. "It looks good."

"Lemme guess." Sam said. "You got cold and decided to bring your jacket, _totally_ not thinking about making Steve loose his marbles."

Bucky smirked back. "Yeah. Absolutely." He glanced at Steve. " _Breathe_ , punk."

"Why now?" Steve managed to choke out.

Bucky shrugged. "Figured…if we head stateside, might be nice not to look like the man that supposedly bombed the UN. Even if they have released that it was Zemo…James Barnes ain't exactly the most popular man in the world right now. Especially with the US government."

"They oughta be givin' you disability money and makin' you a monument." Sam argued fiercely. As a former VA counselor, veterans not getting their benefits was a sore point of his.

"They will." Steve said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Eventually, the truth will come out. It always does."

"Clint found us a house." Wanda said, steering the discussion back to its original location. "Near him."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up. "How close we talkin'?"

"Pretty close, if his descriptions are anything to go by." Sam said. "Wha'd'ya think?"

Bucky closed his eyes for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

"It's been a long time since I lived in a home." he said finally. "Never had a house before. Apartment, yeah, but not a house. Never even left Brooklyn 'till I shipped out for Basic. I liked the Base…it was quiet and nobody around ta bug ya…but close enough to a town that you go somewhere. I…if Barton says okay, I say yes. I'd like to try, anyway."

There was so much cautious hope in his voice that it nearly made Steve burst.

Suddenly, Steve's phone beeped an incoming message. He picked it up off the coffee table and checked it.

It was a text from Clint, with a picture enclosed.

 _Figured I'd give you a visual,_ the text read.

Steve's heart seemed to still.

The picture was of a decent-sized white house with a wrap-around porch and a stone chimney. The second level looked slightly uneven, as one side went higher than the other, creating one part that looked like a typical second-floor of a house, and another that looked like a tower.

But that wasn't what caught Steve's interest.

When he'd been a child, he and his mother had made up tales of where they would live if their lives were better off. Steve had always conjured up images of huge castles and sprawling mansions, but his mother…

 _"_ _I'd like a little house with a white-picket fence, and enough space for a garden…"_

It had been a modest, unassuming wish—perfectly suited to the sort of down-to-earth person his Ma had been. And the phrase had so cemented itself into Steve's memory…

He looked over at Bucky. Bucky _knew_.

"Looks like your kinda place, Stevie." Was all Bucky said, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah." Steve whispered.

"Go for it, Steve." Sam said. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he could tell it was important.

Steve nodded at last. "I'll call Clint." A smile spread out across his face.

He remembered close to a year ago, hearing Ultron's mocking words:

 _"_ _Did you really think you could live without a war?"_

At the time, he'd been unsure. And then, when he'd found out about Clint's farm, he'd felt slightly jealous that the archer had managed to carve out a semi-normal existence in the midst of aliens attacking New York and SHIELD caving in from the inside.

True, he'd had Christy and Bucky and Sam. But not a place to really call home. He'd said as much in his letter to Tony.

He'd long since come to the conclusion that home was more about people than location. But there was something to be said for having a place to crash that wasn't borrowed or rented or used as a training base.

Maybe he couldn't live without a war. But that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to give peace a try.

* * *

"Tony?"

Tony jumped and looked up from his tablet. Rhodey was napping, Vision was somewhere outside, and Bruce and Natasha were at Clint's place, so he was a little taken aback to hear a voice.

He was even more taken aback by who the voice belonged to.

Pepper Potts walked through the main area, her high heels clicking on the hard floor.

"Pep…" Tony breathed out, his heart hammering like a runaway train. "I…I'm sorry."

Disgust washed over him. _Nice one, Stark. "I'm_ _ **sorry**_ _"? Really? That's the best you can do?_

But Pepper just sat down beside him and placed her neat, manicured hand over his rough, callused one.

"'What hideous sin have you committed lately?'" she quoted softly.

Tony shook his head. "You…really don't want the answer to that one. Actually, it's not really an answer, more like a twenty page doctoral thesis. With footnotes."

Pepper sighed. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I…I thought you needed some space. I was wrong. You…you don't do well when people pull away. You spiral."

"Rhodey call you?"

"And Natasha. They've been worried about you. And after seeing everything, so have I." She looked into his eyes. "I never stopped caring, Tony."

Tony felt a lump grow in his throat. "I know."

"You wanna tell me what really went down? Everything?" Pepper asked gently.

Of course he didn't. But then, he never did. He hated the pitying looks he got from people whenever he screwed up. They were almost worse than the outright hostility.

But this was _Pepper_ …

Taking a deep breath, Tony began with that disastrous day at MIT being confronted by Mrs. Spencer.

"I can't believe the nerve of that woman!" Pepper burst out. "'My son is dead and I blame you'? She actually _said that_? Oh, yes, because _that's_ a healthy way of coping with tragedy—blame the wealthy billionaire! Not like he's actually a human being with feelings and guilt complex the size of Antarctica!"

Tony's jaw nearly dropped. "I…I mean I did make…"

"Sokovia was _not your fault_ , Tony." Pepper stressed. "Maybe you made an error creating Ultron, but you had no way of knowing your peacekeeping AI would wake up with a murder complex. And you didn't make that boy go to Sokovia. That was his choice."

"Bruce…said something like that."

"Good." Pepper replied heatedly. "You should listen to Bruce."

Tony plunged on, describing the "conference meeting" with Ross, the UN bombing, the fight in Leipzig, the Raft, and the final showdown in Siberia. Through it all, Pepper stayed mostly silent, combing her fingers through his hair to keep him relatively calm. He even mentioned Steve's secret letter, as well as his own suspicions of where the Rogue Avengers were laying low.

At last, he finished, utterly spent of words.

"Tony…" Pepper said, shaking her head. She couldn't get anything else out.

"I know, Pep. I screwed up. Even when I try to follow the law, do the right thing…I screw up."

"It was Ross." Pepper said fiercely. "How that man got put in charge of all this…he manipulated you all at your worst moments. You had just been shaken up by that…" she clenched her teeth, " _awful_ woman, Steve got the news of Peggy's death, poor Wanda…"

" _Poor_ Wanda?!" Tony cried. "She shoved that guy through a building and killed people!"

Pepper gave Tony a look. "So she should feel guilty about an unmeditated side effect of war for the rest of her life? Be restrained in prison?"

Tony hung his head.

"No. That's why I tried to keep her here…"

"She's not a child, Tony. She made her choice."

Tony groaned. "It all just kept spiraling…I recruited a kid, Pep! I brought a _teenager_ to a fight with the _Avengers_! I must have been delirious. Come to think of it, I don't remember that whole thing too clearly…oh, God, who'm I kidding—I knew what I was doing. I just…thought the benefits outweighed the consequences." He gave a bitter laugh. "I was an idiot."

"And then Zemo…" Pepper practically spit out the name. "He should teach _classes_ on manipulation!"

Suddenly, Tony's face crumpled up in exhaustion.

"Pep…Barnes killed my mom."

"I know, Tony." Pepper whispered, sorrow lining her voice.

That Bucky was probably beyond sorry and had not been in control of his actions, she knew. She knew that Tony knew. But now…

Tony leaned forward into his hands and let out an anguished howl.

"He killed my mom…I know he didn't know…but he killed her!"

Pepper grabbed Tony and pulled him against her side, while he wept like a child for what had been stolen from him.

At last, he managed to calm down and wipe his face.

"Wha-what are you even doin' here, Pep? Why'd you come back?"

Pepper shrugged. "It's like I said…I called it wrong when I said you needed space. You don't do well with people distancing themselves. At all. So I came back."

"So…we pick up where we left?"

Pepper gave a sad smile. "Tony…I love you. In more than one way. But you need to decide how serious you want 'us' to be, and how much you're willing to put into our relationship. And until then…I'm not going anywhere. Even if you decide you're not ready for serious commitment, I'll still be here as your friend to support you. But you need to make up your mind."

Tony nodded, trying to process everything. Pepper…was back? Pepper…wanted a serious commitment from him? From _him_?

"I need to think." he heard himself say.

"That's fine." Pepper said. "And I'll wait for you to decide. Until then, is there a room in this giant, well-decorated base for me to sleep in?"

Tony stood up and ushered her down the hall, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Maybe—just maybe—things were looking up.

* * *

 **Poor Tony...he deserves some "things looking up". But I do feel like he and Pepper need a bit of a break romantically, so he can face his own inner issues (with support, of course).  
**

 **Our Rogue Avengers are at last coming in from the cold. And bye-bye HYDRA programming!**

 **Tune in next time for moving stateside and attempts at normalcy (whatever that means). Also copious amounts of Christy-Cooper-Lila cuteness and Nathaniel falling asleep on Bucky cuteness. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello again! Here's chapter fourteen for ya! At last, our Rogue Avengers come in from the cold and have a place of their own. The war is done, now it's time for mending broken relationships and making peace.**

 **Probably from here, the chapters will start getting a bit more drabble-ly, so feel free to suggest ideas. I will say, to my one reviewer who has asked for a one-shot with Christy in some sort of danger...I won't say I won't write it, but right now, I don't have any good ideas for it. If that changes, I might.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

A recreational bonfire was not normally kindled during Wakanda's fiercely hot summers. At least, not during the day. But this fire was for a very specific purpose…

"Burn, burn, burn the book, harshly through the flames…merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, 'till it's only…ash." Christy finished the song lamely.

Pietro smirked. "I don't think that rhymes."

Christy glared at him. "Then _you_ do better!"

"Children…" Wanda said, fighting her own smile. "Not today, alright?"

" _Alright_." The 'children' chorused.

Steve rolled his eyes as he looked up from poking the fire with a long stick.

"Need another fire starter?" Sam asked.

"Nah, I think the one should do it…"

The five Rogue Avengers (plus T'Challa, plus Christy) were holed up in T'Challa's private courtyard. It was a smallish area with shrubbery, flowers, and one or two stone benches: good for privacy and contemplation.

Or, in this case, burning Bucky's "HYDRA book".

Bucky himself sat on one of the benches staring at the dull-red book. A bag of marshmallows lay next to him.

"If you are trying to make it burn by glaring at it, my friend, I believe you are out of luck."

Bucky glanced up to find T'Challa—no big surprise. The man was one of the few people who could give his "sniper senses" a run for their money.

"I know." he said, giving a half-grin. "I guess I just…I dunno. I want it gone, don't get me wrong, but…"

"To destroy it implies a total victory you are not sure you yet possess." T'Challa finished.

"Something like that. I'm not…what Wanda did, what she's still willing to do for any relapses, it's great. A miracle. But with this…it just seems too good to be true." Bucky studied the ground. "I had a pretty good run, before all this happened. Two years. Was finally starting to feel like a person again. And then…Zemo." His mouth turned down. "Ten little words, and I was their puppet all over again."

Bucky's words rang with a sense of vulnerability. T'Challa had a feeling that, behind all the words, the man's true question was simply, 'will I actually be left alone now?'

"No man can know what the future holds." T'Challa said slowly. "I don't think anyone can promise you complete safety…and I think _you_ know this."

Bucky nodded. "You're right…not even Steve. I know he'll give every breath in his body, but the punk's not immortal. Omnipotent. Whatever. And I…I need to quit bein' afraid of setbacks. So maybe I'll never be the same as before. Alright. So…I'll be what I can be. _Who_ I can be." He sat up, back straight and eyes like burning embers. "If they come back, I won't go down without a fight."

T'Challa shook his head. "I believe HYDRA picked the wrong man to injure, my friend."

Bucky's gaze drifted across to Steve—Steve who would always have his back—and the others he was proud to call family.

"Yeah…and the wrong people to piss off, too."

"And that." T'Challa laughed.

"Fire's ready!" Christy called, a huge grin on her face. "Last call for all flammable materials!"

With a long sigh, Bucky stood up, book in hand, and walked over to the fire.

Once everyone was assembled, Sam cleared his throat and began, perfectly deadpan:

"We are, uh, gathered here today to celebrate— _mourn_ the loss of our hated enemy Mr. H-Y-D-R-A Creepybook. Mr. Book lived a long and presumably successful life, but has now outlived his usefulness and will be put to his well-deserved rest."

Needless to say, both Christy and Pietro lost it long before Sam had finished talking. Steve and T'Challa were shaking their heads in mirth, Wanda was grinning, and even Bucky had cracked a smile.

In a much more serious manner, Sam added, "But seriously, man. Fire's here. Anything you wanna do 'sides burn it to hell?"

Bucky gave the book another long, glaring stare. Mentally, he channeled all the pain, horror, abuse, and degradation he'd been reliving over the past couple months, and pictured it soaking into the book's cover and pages.

 _Bye-bye, Zola. 'Bye, creepy Colonel. 'Bye, Pierce. 'Bye, dumb techs. 'Bye, slavery. 'Bye, mindless obedience._

 _'_ _Bye, apathy. 'Bye, despair._

 _Goodbye. I think…I think I'm gonna live now._

In one desperate move, he pitched the book into the fire. The flames engulfed it, greedily devouring the flammable item.

There was dead silence as the book slowly morphed into ash. When the silver star had grown mottled beyond all recognition, Bucky suddenly grinned, pure happiness surging through his body.

"Well, it ain't gettin' any deader! Who wants marshmallows?"

"Ooh, me!" Christy exclaimed.

T'Challa rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded distinctly like "crazy Americans". He did give Bucky a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, though, as he moved to grab the bag of sugary treats.

"Buck…" Steve said, his eyes shining with joy. "I'm so _proud_ of you."

"Ditto." Sam added. "It takes guts to break away from the past."

Bucky tried to shrug off the compliments but the effect was rather drowned out by Steve's arm flung enthusiastically around his shoulders and Wanda's full-on hug.

" _You_ are _amazing_." she whispered in his ear.

A strange flip-flop feeling gurgled in Bucky's chest, but he barely had time to process the emotion before Christy wriggled herself up against him and Pietro started grabbing marshmallow roasting sticks and attempting to hand them out.

Ten minutes later, they were all saturated with sugar.

"I love these things…" Bucky mumbled, white goo oozing across his lips.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You got a water fountain or something around here, Your Royal Catness?"

T'Challa shook his head and kept an amused grin on Bucky.

"I _like_ it all over my face." Bucky protested.

Sam sighed. "I know, I know."

"Me, too." Christy added, deliberately taking a huge bite and getting marshmallow smeared across her face.

"Me, three." Pietro said, garbled around his own bite. "Is best way to eat marshmallows."

"Great, Buck, now you're a corrupting influence." Steve snarked good-naturedly.

Bucky gave a giant shrug and a smirking grin. "Apologies, Captain. I'll try an' clean up my act."

" _Lies_ …" Steve muttered.

"Someone should take a picture of this and sent it to Zemo." Sam added. "'Hey big guy, that book worked real well for kindling. Got any more?'"

"He wouldn't be too happy." Wanda replied, deadpan.

Pietro curled his fingers and put his hands near his face in a 'curses, foiled again' gesture and said, with an exaggerated accent, "Nooo! You messed up all my plaaannns!"

"Sharon might be able to actually do it." Steve said thoughtfully. "But probably too big a risk. And angry bad guys make dangerous bad guys. Let him sit all smug in prison and think he won. HYDRA's not the only one that can multiply. If he ever gets away, or when a bigger threat comes, they'll find out what happens when you mess with the Avengers."

T'Challa shook his head. "They will find that it does not end well for them. And that you will go to the ends of the earth to protect others _and_ each other."

" _We_ will go." Sam corrected. "You're in with us now, Sir Catness. You jumped on the crazy train the minute you got these two" he pointed to Steve and Bucky "on your plane in Siberia."

"Perhaps…" T'Challa said, smiling. "'Crazy train'?" he added, confused.

"Comes from 'I'm with you 'till the end of the line'." Bucky clarified. "Like, end of the train tracks. Means you'll stay with someone no matter what happens. That was…that was what finally cracked the programming two years back, Steve saying it. I used to say it to him. So…" he trailed off.

"So we're all on the crazy train of this life, and we're gonna ride it 'till the end of the line." Sam finished.

T'Challa gave a sage nod. "I see." He tried to smile, but his lips seemed frozen.

It had suddenly hit him that, with the burning of the book, Bucky's treatments were now over, for the time being. Soon, his friends would be leaving the country.

And he would be left behind.

"Easy." Sam murmured, catching the look in T'Challa's eyes and interpreting it correctly. "Technology was invented for a reason. We've all still got Skype and burner phones."

"I'll call you." Christy promised, giving the man a hug. "Randomly. Text me when you're bored in the middle of meetings."

That, at least, caused T'Challa to crack a smile. "I think that would be frowned on, _omncinci_."

"Just a little." Steve said. "But seriously, T'Challa…you're in with us now. Part of the family…if that's alright with you."

"Nothing could please me more." T'Challa said, sincerity running through his tone.

"Then don't even _think_ you're getting abandoned just 'cause we're headed back stateside soon."

"We don't leave anyone behind." Wanda said. "Even when they are halfway across the world. We will want to know what the Black Panther is up to."

"Yes, and if he is having adventures that require speed, call me." Pietro added. "I'm serious."

T'Challa's hesitant smile grew wider. "I shall keep that in mind." he promised.

The day his father had died, he had thought his world had ended. He had been consumed with vengeance, and then with numb grief.

If he could take that day back, save his father's life, he still would. But he couldn't possibly give back the friendships he had made since that awful day.

 _"_ _You cannot build on a foundation of ashes, my son_. _"_ His father had said, after the affair in Lagos. _"You must let the ashes of the past be scattered on the wind, and turn your face towards the future. If you do that, you will find that what you longed for has come alive again, in its own way."_

T'Challa took a long, steady breath.

 _Baba_ had been right. He had released his anger and vengeance, released his grief, and in their place had grown something beautiful.

With a sudden move, he picked up one of the marshmallows and asked, "Will someone show me how to cook this…thing?"

"Thought you didn't like 'em." Christy said, looking confused.

"I…doubt they will ever be my favorite. But for my _family_ …perhaps I can make an exception."

* * *

"Tony?"

Tony glanced up lazily from where he was explaining his latest project to Pepper (and she was _masterfully_ keeping up). "Natasha?"

"I need to borrow a plane." Natasha said bluntly.

Tony raised his eyebrow. Pepper smiled. "Taking Bruce to Tahiti?"

Natasha gave an almost embarrassed-looking return smile. "Not this time. He's…actually not even involved with this. He wanted to be, but…too many risks."

"And 'this' is…?" Pepper prodded.

Natasha seemed nervous, highly unusual for the controlled spy. "Some mutual friends of ours need safe transportation." she answered finally.

"So you wanna use one of _my_ planes to bring Steve and his merry men back from Wakanda." Tony said. "Is that what I'm hearing?"

"You _knew_ they were in Wakanda?"

Tony sighed. "If anyone would follow us to Siberia, it would be T'Challa. I saw him loading Zemo onto his plane, after our fight. And once he figured out who was really responsible for his dad's killing, he'd probably wanna make it up somehow. Plus, no one could find a trace of them, and what better place to lay low than a reclusive African nation protected by a guy with claws?"

"So all this time, you knew." Natasha said. "How come you didn't tell Ross?"

"Because he isn't a complete idiot?" Pepper suggested, more than a little fire in her voice.

Natasha spread her hands. "Pepper, I know you care about him. So do I, it's why I asked you to come. But I need to know what's going on in his head, before everyone comes back." She turned to Tony. "If you knew where they were, or at least suspected, how come you didn't tell Ross?"

Tony looked down for a minute. "Ross is too blind to look past his own opinion and listen to facts." he said finally. "I found that out the hard way. Maybe we still need accountability. Maybe it's just _me_ that needs accountability. But not accountability to him. Not to some impersonal panel. Until these accords are straightened out, I'm not trusting Ross; with myself or anyone else."

Natasha nodded. "I understand."

"So, if you're bringing them back, where are they headed?"

"Middle of nowhere." Natasha said vaguely.

"Is this middle of nowhere near to another specific middle of nowhere that we discovered about a year ago?" Pepper wanted to know.

Natasha gave a tiny smile. "Possibly. More details may become available in the event of desired reconciliation. Or peace talks."

"Peace talks would be good." Pepper said, giving Tony a look. "Peace talks would be _very_ good."

Tony looked a little upset. "And, just like that, everything's hunky-dory? We just act like nothing ever happened?"

" _No_." Pepper sighed. "We act like grownups and actually _discuss_ our issues instead of beating each other to a pulp."

Natasha smirked. "I knew I liked you for a reason. Where were you two months ago?"

"Unfortunately, not here. And I am _never_ making that mistake again." Pepper put her hand on Tony's arm. "Zemo's plan was to tear the Avengers apart. As long as you're still spitting about Siberia, _he_ _wins_. As long as you're still refusing to talk with Steve or Bucky or Wanda, _he wins_! Do you want that?"

Tony gave a heavy sigh. "No." he admitted, voice small. "I don't."

"Then at least _think_ about having talks with everyone." Natasha said earnestly. "Steve's not any happier about this whole fracturing thing than you are! Like it or not, Tony, we're a family. A family that shouldn't be split up over something like this."

Tony nodded. "I'll think about it." he promised. "What kinda plane did you want?"

Natasha shrugged. "Not too big, not too small? Enough for seven people, counting me."

Tony stood up. "C'mon, I've got the perfect little number in the garage. Decent size, stealth setting…ooh, and it even disappears like those giant 'carriers SHIELD has. Had."

"Duplicating tech secretly again?" Natasha asked, smirking.

"Don't I always?"

Pepper rolled her eyes as the two of them headed towards the garage. Trust Natasha to bring up the one thing Tony had refused to discuss.

She was right, though. The Avengers, with all their quirks, fights, and idiosyncrasies, were most definitely a family.

A family that, she hoped, was stronger than anything the bad guys could throw at them.

* * *

Christy sat with her nose pressed against the window of the plane, trying to catch a glimpse of Clint's house…or theirs.

 _Their_ house. It still felt weird to say it. Since being adopted, she had lived in a tower, a training base, and, for the last few months, a palace. All had been wonderful, but…

 _A house is different!_

Clint had been their liaison, funneling money and documents between them and the house's owners, who had been glad their old residence would be put to good use. And Steve, much as he tried to hide it, had been thrilled about owning a place that was actually _his_ ; not issued by an organization or borrowed from someone else. All the "grown-ups" (even the twins) had chipped in money, but the deed was in his name.

Nobody had argued.

Finally, the little plane began its descent downwards and landed in the fields behind Clint's house.

"We can unload stuff later." Steve said. "There's plenty of daylight left and…I think some of us are anxious to get off." He looked pointedly at Christy, who was practically bouncing with anticipation.

"Just a little." Bucky said dryly.

Natasha hit the button for the down ramp, and they began the walk to Clint's front door.

Naturally, before they had so much as reached the front door, they were assaulted by two small bundles of energy, both calling one word.

"Christy!"

Christy braced herself just in time for a double hug. "Lila! Cooper!"

"You're back!" Cooper cried happily. "I'm so happy you're back; Lila was driving me crazy!"

"Was not!" Lila protested. "Cooper was worse."

"Was definitely not! Anyway…" Cooper trailed off lamely, "We missed you."

"A lot." Lila put in.

"Missed you guys, too." Christy said. "And we're gonna be _neighbors_. We can sleep over at each other's houses every night!"

By this point, Clint, Laura, and Nathaniel had exited from the house and for a few moments there was a lot of happy laughter, hugs, and general "we missed you's".

"I'll take you guys up to look at the house later." Clint promised. "But right now, I'd bet you're all hungry. And there's still someone else you need to say hi to."

"Is Bruce here?" Natasha asked, craning to look in the front window.

"Yes, he said he'd wait for the chaos to die down before showing himself." Laura said, glancing at the three children, who were still carrying on a mile-a-minute conversation. "But there's someone else, too."

"Who?" Steve asked, as they headed into the house. "Did Tony finally…?"

The question died on his lips as Sharon, seated on the couch, looked up from her phone.

"Hey." she said shyly. "I…I couldn't wait for December." She stood up and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

Steve was sure he was blushing very, _very_ red, given the heat pouring from his face and Bucky's elbow in his ribs. He was spared any more embarrassment by Bruce poking his head out from the kitchen, asking if the coast was clear.

"Uncle Bruce!" Christy yelled, giving the scientist a huge hug. "I haven't seen you in _forever_! I missed you."

Bruce laughed. "Hey, kid. I…missed you, too."

Laura cleared her throat loudly. "Food's in the kitchen. We made hamburgers and hotdogs and plenty of side stuff. Eat as much as you want, but don't take that as a personal challenge." She gave Pietro a significant look. Pietro shrugged innocently.

"So, we're back stateside." Steve said to Sharon, as they got their food and sat down. "And…we should probably talk."

"Agreed." Sharon replied. "And, um, sorry about the kiss, I just…you looked really nice."

Steve gave a tiny sigh. "Not hard to do with these muscles." he said, a faint hint of bitterness in his voice.

Sharon frowned. "Well, yes, the body helps…but the guy that inhabits the body is pretty great, too."

"It's just…" Steve sighed again. "Alright, I'm gonna be honest with you. Back before the serum, I couldn't get a date to save my life."

"I've seen the pictures." Sharon muttered in disbelief. "You still didn't look that bad. You trying to tell me every girl in the '40's was _that_ shallow?"

"It wasn't just that. I'd had every illness in the books, and a few that stuck around, too, like my asthma. What kinda provider was I supposed to be, sickly as I was?"

Sharon pressed her lips together. "Still pretty shallow."

Steve's heart gave a flutter at the defense. "The only girl that actually looked twice at me before the serum was Peggy. After the serum…"

"Everybody was suddenly interested in tall, muscular, Captain America." Sharon finished. "And they forgot that _Captain America_ was really just Steve Rogers who finally had a body to match his heart."

Steve's lips spread in a slow smile. "I…I was gonna say that I didn't like, in this century, that all most dames— _girls_ —see are the muscles, with nobody to know who I was before." He took a deep breath. "Sharon, I'm not gonna lie to you. This…relationship probably won't be easy. I loved Peggy and I see a lot of her in you. But the same way I don't wanna be judged by my persona, I know you don't wanna be judged by who your aunt was. If…if we can make a deal to try not to do that…maybe it'll work."

His eyes were so bright and earnest that Sharon almost felt like crying.

"I looked up to her so much…" she whispered. "And I feel like I'll just be some poor substitute…or, or…"

She couldn't get out the last, secret fear that had haunted her only in the dead of night.

"That you _are_ a substitute." Steve finished grimly. "Look, Sharon…I liked you well before I knew who you were related to. I saw somebody who took pride in their work…someone who was kind enough to give a dumb jamoke like me the time of day. And later…someone who was brave enough to stand up for what they believed in. I heard about that whole 'Captain's orders' thing."

Sharon blushed a little. "Rumlow was a jerk. I should go congratulate Wanda for shoving him through a building. And I don't know what a jamoke is, but I'm pretty sure you aren't one."

Steve glanced down. "Somebody who fails spectacularly at things most people do normally."

"See, that's definitely not you." Sharon placed her hand over his. "That's not the Steve Rogers that Aunt Peggy told me stories about. And that's not the man I see right here. The man I see…is a hero, in every sense of the word." She breathed out slowly. "I say let's give us a shot."

Steve couldn't keep the wide, idiotic grin from spreading across his face. Euphoria shot through him.

 _She wants me! She actually_ _ **wants**_ _me!_

He took a deep breath to steady his giddiness. "I'm ready if you are. But there's someone else in the equation."

"I'll talk to Christy." Sharon promised. "She seems like such a sweet girl…I wouldn't want her to be uneasy with all this."

The last "check" was off Steve's mental list. He could now let his happy emotions run with no hesitation.

Since waking up, he'd more or less put any thoughts of romance to the side. He'd had a team to manage, a battle to fight, and a kid to raise. Any dream of a relationship seemed effectively dead, even with Natasha's matchmaking.

But now, with a wild, unknown future ahead of him…

Maybe it was time to let what was once dead be resurrected.

* * *

Laura was a few bites into her meal before realizing that holding a baby and eating did not mix. She cast her eyes about looking for a suitable pair of arms to hold Nathaniel, who, after all the excitement, needed a nap but wouldn't sleep.

Her gaze fell on Bucky Barnes, who (in typical supersoldier/general male fashion) had already finished eating and was sitting quietly on the couch _not at all_ sneaking glances at Steve and Sharon (who were talking nearby).

"Hey, Bucky?"

Bucky snapped to attention, hearing his name. "Yes, ma'am?"

Laura sighed. "You _can_ call me Laura, you know. I think we're past the stage of formalities."

Bucky gave a small smile. "My Ma taught me good manners. You need somethin'?"

"An extra pair of arms would be nice…" Laura said, motioning with her head to Nathaniel. "He needs a nap, but he won't sleep."

A flicker of apprehension shone in Bucky's eyes. "I…I dunno…"

"He's pretty good with people—has to be, with this family. Don't worry, I trust you."

Even more apprehension appeared on his face, but Bucky nodded resolutely. "I'll hold him. C'mere, bud."

Laura gratefully handed over the slightly-fussy baby and Bucky, standing up, started to bounce him slowly.

Nathaniel looked up at Bucky, his tiny face furrowed in confusion.

"Hey, bud…" Bucky said, quiet as a breath. "I'm your…Uncle Bucky. I haven't seen you for a while, you've gotten pretty big."

"Bu'y." Nathaniel mumbled, reaching his hand up into Bucky's rough stubble.

Laura laughed. "He does that with Clint, too. He's fascinated by beards."

Bucky smiled, totally entranced by the tiny creature in his arms. "Aw, that's okay. Ya like beards, buddy? Well, I don't like 'em so much…you might remember my hair longer…I got it cut so I wouldn't stand out." He rocked Nathaniel back and forth on his shoulder. "Mama says you gotta go take a nap…I think you'd better listen."

An irrational anger surged through Laura. _Dangerous assassin, my eye! I'd like to show Ross a tape of this!_

"Christy likes this one…" Bucky continued softly. "Let's see if you do, too…gol-den slum-bers, kiss your eyes…smi-les a-wait, you when you rise…"

He sang the whole thing, his low baritone echoing quietly in the room.

At last, Nathaniel lay down his head and, after a few minutes, drifted off.

"Thank you." Laura said sincerely. "You can put him in his crib, the nursery's back by Lila's room…"

Bucky nodded. "I got him." He got a funny look on his face. "Thank _you_." he whispered, voice cracking like a little boy's.

"Oh, sweetie…" As gently as possible, Laura gave him a mother's hug, something he hadn't felt for over seventy years. "It wasn't your fault." she insisted. "Even if you did it…you weren't the one pulling the strings. And now…now you have plenty of time to make up for it."

"I…thanks." Bucky gave another awkward nod, and started back to the nursery.

"He surprises you, doesn't he?"

Laura almost jumped at the sound of Wanda's voice behind her. She gave the girl another hug (because she'd _missed_ her, and Pietro). "Yes…he does."

"Strong but…not strong. Broken but fighting. He and Steve are the same…it makes for an interesting paradox."

"It does." Laura took the girl's hand. "Now, I want to know _everything_ that happened while you were away. From _you_."

Wanda looked hesitant.

"I do the same thing with Clint." Laura pulled her back to the couch and they both sat down. "Tell me, honey. I wanna know what happened to my other girl."

Tears burning her eyes, Wanda swallowed and began to speak.

* * *

"So does your dad like her?" Lila asked, nodding at Sharon.

Christy shrugged. "Yeah…I think so. She seems pretty nice. And she guessed I was adopted, so that means she's smart. Most people can't figure out why or how _Captain America_ has a kid."

Cooper looked speculative. "If Uncle Steve married her, you'd have a new mom. That'd be nice."

Christy frowned. "I don't want a new mom." she said tightly.

"Not a _new_ mom, a, uh…replacement mom."

Christy's frown got deeper. "I don't want a replacement mom, either. I already had a mom—she was great."

Cooper seemed to realize that he was only digging himself deeper, so he muttered, "Sorry."

"S'okay." Christy said, her frown lessening. "I know what you meant."

She knew that Cooper was trying to be nice—but it didn't help.

Later, Sharon came over and tapped her shoulder. "Christy? Can we talk?"

Christy nodded immediately, and they walked to a quiet spot in the living room.

"I heard what Cooper said earlier." Sharon began.

Christy looked down sheepishly. "No offense to you."

"None taken." Sharon said gently. "I don't want to be a replacement _anything_. Can you tell me about your mom?"

Slowly, Christy looked up. "She...her name was Elisabeth. She looked a lot like me and she was always kind to people. Even when they didn't deserve it—she said that was the best revenge you could have on mean people. She worked in an office, but she had to quit 'cause she got cancer, but it was too late for the doctors to fix anything and chemo didn't work, so she…died." Christy pulled her legs against her chest. "And I still miss her."

Sharon reached out and placed her hand on Christy's knee. "Thank you so much for telling me all that. I would _never_ try to take any of that away from you. Your mom deserves a special part of your love and no matter how serious it gets with your dad and me, I would never ask for that part. Promise."

"Dad likes you." Christy whispered. "When he sees you, he gets really happy, and he didn't use to be very happy. He was lonely for a while, before me and Uncle Bucky and Sam."

Sharon sighed. "I know, sweetie. I heard about a lot of it."

"So, I mean, if you make him happy, then I like you already. And I think you're nice, and pretty brave. Dad told me you stood up to Rumlow, and he was awful." A dark look settled over Christy's features. "He saw what they did to Uncle Bucky…and he didn't stop it."

Whatever else, Sharon decided, Steve had definitely passed to his daughter a protective streak for one James Buchanan Barnes.

"My fifteen minutes of fame." Sharon replied, giving a half-grin.

"I bet you've done other stuff. You worked for SHIELD like Aunt Tasha and Uncle Clint. Did you do spy stuff?"

"I…guess you could call it that."

"Got any good stories?"

"A few…"

Christy grinned. "See, I like you already. I'm not hard to please."

Sharon laughed. "No, I didn't get that impression." Her face turned serious. "So, are we good?"

Christy nodded. "We're good. Only…" she paused and blurted out, "I don't think I could call you 'mom'."

"And I wouldn't ask you to." Sharon said. "You can call me whatever you want."

"Can I just call you Sharon?"

"That would be absolutely fine."

Christy nodded again. "Okay. A…a back-up mom. Like Sam's my back-up dad."

Sharon couldn't resist another laugh. "I see you have a whole set of categories for everyone."

"Oh, yeah; I gotta. Otherwise it starts getting confusing. You see…" Christy leaned forward conspiratorially, "everyone says the Avengers are a team. Which is sorta true, I guess. But it's really a family and everyone has a spot in the family."

"Oh, really?" Sharon leaned forward herself, actually mildly intrigued.

"Yeah! So, it's like this…"

* * *

"So, are you more confused or less about our…extended family?"

Sharon looked up into the face of none other than Bucky, who stood by her chair with a large grin on his face. Christy had recently vacated the other chair to go and play with her "cousins".

"Less, I think." she replied. "But I think this 'family' would give Tolkien's Hobbits a run for their money."

Bucky's face lit up. "You've read _Lord of the Rings_?"

Sharon gave a small smile. "Let's just say, Middle Earth was a lot more exciting than middle _school_. And high school, for that matter."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, I'd say so. If those books had been out when I was in school, I'd'a been reading 'em, too. I was always lookin' for a story that got me away from where I was." He shrugged. "When I came back, it was the same deal."

"Well, you look…better than the last time I saw you." Sharon said honestly. During and after the whole mess with the bombing and the accords and Zemo, Bucky had been a quiet, guilt-ridden shell. Now…it seemed that there was new life in him.

"Thanks." Bucky tipped his head to the side and looked at her, as if unsure of how to put things. Finally, he said, "Y'know, I never actually saw Steve kiss anybody before."

Sharon's eyebrows went up.

"Never actually thought he'd have the guts to initiate a kiss, either. So when I saw you two in Germany…" he shook his head. "I was kinda impressed."

"Thanks?" Sharon said. "I guess this is part of the 'if you hurt him, I tear you limb from limb' speech, huh?"

Bucky smirked. "I'd never tear a lady limb from limb—I'd let Tasha or Wanda handle that."

Sharon gave a slow nod. "Fair enough. Just so you know, I don't plan to hurt him."

"I figured you didn't." Bucky sighed. "Look, he's got friends enough and a great kid, but I never seen anyone in this century turn his head like you. So lemme give you some advice. Steve's the greatest guy I know, and how I wound up joined-at-the-hip friends with _him_ is a riddle for the ages. However, he's also the most _exasperatingly stubborn_ man in all creation when it comes to basic stuff like _resting_ or _taking care of his injuries_. He'd rather let you think nothing's wrong than admit he's hurting, although he's gotten better about that, 'cause we always sniff him out. But if he loves you…he'll take on the whole world to make sure you're safe."

Momentarily stunned, Sharon at last managed to sputter out, "I'll…keep all that in mind. Thanks for the…advice. Warning. Whatever you'd call it."

Bucky gave a heartstopper grin. "No problem, doll. He give you any grief, you come find me and I'll set him straight. Understand?"

"Understand." Sharon replied, grinned slowly back. "It's…nice talking with you." She continued, meaning it. "Hadn't really got to do it before."

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, well, I've been a little busy. But I could say the same to you. Besides…" he looked a little shy. "Nice ta know somebody else cares about my friend, too. Someone who's not afraid to set him straight."

"Well…" Sharon trailed off. "You've been looking after him for years. You've probably got a lot more experience than I do."

"Just a bit." Bucky's eyes sparked. "But I'll be happy to show you the ropes."

Sharon smiled. "I'd be happy to let you show me."

* * *

"It's beautiful…" Steve whispered, gazing at the house that he couldn't quite believe was _his_.

"Sure is." Clint said, throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders. "And it's all yours."

Solemnly, Steve walked up to the front door, key in hand, and opened it. Bucky, Sam, Christy, Wanda, and Pietro followed in his wake.

Inside, there was a large living room to the left and a kitchen, eating area, and laundry room to the right. Further back was the master bedroom and bathroom.

Up the flight of stairs was another floor with two more bedrooms and a bathroom. A shorter staircase led up to the tiny third floor, which had one large room, a smaller room, and a bathroom.

"We'll make this work." Steve promised. "Some of us will probably have to double up, but…"

"It's great." Sam insisted. "Nicest place I ever lived in."

"I like the backyard." Pietro chimed in.

Bucky snorted. "What backyard? Fence only goes around the front; the back is just downhill and fields."

Pietro grinned. "Exactly!"

Wanda was quiet, mesmerized by the sight of so much _space_ that was _theirs_. For the first time since she and Pietro were ten, they would be living in a real home.

The large, third-floor room had three windows that looked down the hill to Clint's house, and everyone stood in front of them, admiring the view.

"Avengers Hill." Christy mumbled. "That's what this is."

Bucky smirked. A little presumptuous to take over the whole hill, huh, kid?"

Christy shook her head. "Not if it's true. This is our place. It's like this book I read, where everybody called a place 'Aunt-Hill,' because all the aunts of a family lived on the hill. So we're Avenger's Hill."

"I like it." Steve said quietly.

"Avengers Hill; long may it remain." Sam added.

The Rogue Avengers had finally come in from the cold. And 'warmth' had never felt so sweet.

* * *

 **Awww! Yay for conversations and tying up loose ends!  
**

 **Also, the "we're neighbors so we'll sleep over at each others houses every night" thing TOTALLY was something me and my friends plotted when they moved to my neighborhood. And then, reality ensued... ;)**

 **Tune in next time for a very special visit from everyone's favorite Android and Tony proving that he does have a heart. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, all! Glad I was able to get this out to you, because as of last night, it didn't look like I would. I'm going to New York City this weekend, so I obviously won't be able to write much of anything until Wednesday. But I will enjoy being a happy tourist and looking for stuff from the MCU (because all the good superheroes hide out in New York...).**

 **Not gonna lie, this chapter was pretty hard for me to write. I like Vision well enough as a character, but writing him is hard to get a handle on. Same thing for Rhodey. But I had this idea in mind and I wasn't gonna let it go. Also, thanks to my guest reviewer who suggested the bicycle idea. I had already thought about it, and your review convinced me to use it.**

 **You may or may not have noticed that I've subdivided this story into three parts solely for my own personal enjoyment. Chapters 1-5 (covering movie events) were called "Civil War," chapters 6-14 were called "Reconstruction" and now chapters 15-unknown will be labeled "Rapprochement," a French word that means roughly "an establishment or restoration of harmonious relations".**

 **But I digress: on with the chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

PART THREE: RAPPROCHEMENT

Chapter Fifteen

Vision sat quietly on a sofa in the Avengers HQ Common Area, trying to find the right emotions to explain his mood.

Humans, he had found, were very complex creatures, and human emotions more so. He still wasn't entirely sure how much of him was human, but he _was_ certain that he was more than a machine.

He could _feel_ things. And he still didn't know what to do with everything he felt.

Wanda had helped before, talking with him and helping give names to odd mental or physical sensations. But now, Wanda was gone.

They were _all_ gone.

Even with Miss Potts— _Pepper_ —back (which helped tremendously), the base still felt too big and too empty. Memories haunted the halls and made everything feel _wrong_.

Logically, Vision supposed that everything seemed strange merely because half of the team was now away and Colonel Rhodes was injured. But he couldn't help thinking it was more than that.

"Earth to Vision…earth to Vision! You okay? I know you got your own weird biology, but I'm pretty sure you _are_ supposed to move every so often…"

Rhodey's calm, slightly sarcastic tone jolted Vision out of his thoughts.

"My apologies…" he murmured. "I must be poor company for you."

Rhodey shook his head. "Nah, just thinking. Guess you were, too." he sighed heavily. "I feel like I've done nothing _but_ think since everything went down."

"I told Miss Romanoff that I had much to think about. I have been trying to honor that statement." Vision replied, frowning a little.

"You know, you _are_ allowed to call people by their first names." Rhodey said bemusedly.

Vision dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I realize this. I…often do it without thinking. Mr. Stark… _Tony_ said it might be left over programming from Jarvis' matrix."

"That would make sense…well, about as much as any of this makes sense. So…what were you thinkin' about?"

Vision studied the rug. "I…I was attempting to put words to my current mood. I still do not understand emotion very well."

Rhodey snorted. "Join the club. Emotions are slippery. Look, I'm not Wilson, but if you want some help…"

"Some help might be nice." Vision looked up. "I feel…like before a fight." he began hesitantly. "That something is about to happen, but never comes. At the same time, I also feel…little ambition to do anything. And my chest aches, but not physically."

Rhodey thought for a minute. "Bored." he finally diagnosed. "Bored and lonely, I'd say. And I don't blame you. You feel like before a fight because you're waitin' for everyone else to come back, but they don't come."

All Vision could do was stare because that _exactly_ described what he was feeling.

"Why do you not…blame me?" he asked.

"Well…" Rhodey shrugged. "You liked hanging out with Wanda. And you had a pretty good rapport with Steve and Sam and even Barnes and Pietro. And the kid, of course. So it's no wonder you're lonely and out of sorts." He gestured grimly at his still-weak legs. "And we haven't been great distractions, what with Tony always working on some project and me laid up, and Bruce and Natasha always off doing whatever. You miss everybody. I get it." His voice dropped. "Can't say I don't, myself."

Vision suddenly looked troubled. "I did apologize for…" he pointed lamely at Rhodey's lower body.

Rhodey nodded. "Yeah, you did." he said gently. "More than once. And you don't need to beat yourself up about it. It was…it wasn't really anyone's fault. It was a messy situation. You were distracted...and you mis-shot."

"That rather makes it sound like it _was_ my fault."

"Well, if it was, then I forgive you. Because if there's anything we can learn from this whole damned mess, it's that being bitter and holding grudges never works out well."

Vision nodded gravely, and a faint internal tightness that had never really left after the airport battle eased slightly.

"Bored and lonely." he mused. "And what would you suggest for a cure?"

Rhodey leaned forward as much as he could. "You want my advice? _Go see them_."

At the airman's words, Vision felt his heart speed up, as energy seemed to course through him.

"You…truly think I should? Would they…accept me?"

"You probably more than any of us minus Natasha." Rhodey gave a sardonic grin. "As if Natasha was ever on our side to begin with. Tony was all upset for a bit, but me, I was wondering why she didn't just choose to go with Steve earlier."

"And Clint." Vision mused. "It _is_ a wonder she didn't act on her true loyalties earlier. But she does care for Tony."

Rhodey nodded. "She does. Enough to stick around with us."

"So, if I were to pay them a visit…how would I go about it?"

Rhodey gave a long, glamorous eye roll. "Their 'secret hideout' is about as secret as my left toenail. They're out at Clint's place, or near it. I don't know exact coordinates, but Natasha does. Just ask her."

Vision's eyes widened like a child's. The effect was so startling, that Rhodey had to remind himself that the Android only had a year or so of life experience. "They are so close? Are you certain?"

"Positive." Rhodey assured. "I got it from Tony, who got it from Natasha. But I don't feel obligated to pass that information on to anyone else, if you take my meaning."

Vision frowned. This was quite a different position than the one Rhodey had espoused several months ago.

 _"_ _I signed because it was the right thing to do…"_

Rhodey caught Vision's skeptical look. "I know, I know. And I still think the Accords, done right, would be a good thing. But apparently no one's going to do it right. I know when I'm outnumbered; I'll bide my time and pick another hill to die on when it comes to oversight. In the meantime, I'm not gonna rat out Steve and the others. Especially not with the kid involved."

"I…see. So I would merely have to ask Natasha?"

"Well, it's a good place to start."

Vision nodded. "As good as any, I suppose."

* * *

As it turned out, asking Natasha for the Rogue Avengers' location was _definitely_ a good place to start. She did, however, insist on driving him herself.

"Old habits die hard." she said, a hint of apology in her voice.

Vision didn't feel slighted. Natasha was fiercely protective of her friends, and the longer the friendship, the deeper the protection. It made sense that she didn't want to give up the location of Clint's house, even to him.

But her words did offer a reminder that a few short months ago, he had been the "enemy".

Even with the knowledge that there had been no true "sides" in the fight, he still felt vaguely guilty.

 _"_ _It is…a question of safety."_

 _"_ _I can protect myself…"_

 _"_ _Not yours."_

In the passenger seat of Natasha's car, Vision gritted his teeth as the words ran around in his head, mocking him. He nervously fingered the item sitting in his lap: a small bouquet of flowers. It was intended as an apology for Wanda. Now, he wondered if it was even worth it.

What had he been _thinking_?

 _I was only trying to do what I thought was right! I was listening to Mr. Stark…_

 _And look where that got you!_ A bitter voice sounded in his mind. _Turned your greatest friend against you!_

"Hey." Natasha said softly. "You okay? You've been…quiet. Actually, you've been quiet for three months. Only time I see any spark is when Peter comes around."

The mention of Peter Parker managed to elicit a smile out of Vision. He rather liked the energetic, enthusiastic boy, and Peter seemed to like him back.

"I was…thinking."

Natasha reached over and placed her hand over his. "She'll forgive you, Vizh. Don't even worry about it."

"But I…I…" Vision sputtered, sounding lost.

"Go on…"

"I was only trying to do what I thought was right. And everything went wrong."

Natasha sighed. "That's all any of us were trying to do. It's just some of us—not naming names—disagreed on what happened to be 'right' for this situation."

"It's very complicated."

"I know. It's a lot more gray than you might think."

At Vision's confused look, she elaborated, "Black and white, wrong and right…they aren't always so clear sometimes. It takes experience, and principles, to help you figure out what to do in a given situation." She snorted a bit. "I sound like Steve. Anyway, like I said, they'll forgive you. Wanda included. Though you might have to worry about Pietro, bringing a gift like that." She nodded at the flowers.

Vision felt heat spread across his face.

Natasha gave him a teasing grin. "Roses…very romantic. But why yellow?"

"I wanted to know if there was a specific flower to give for an apology. So I did research. Apparently yellow roses symbolize a…desire to apologize after a misstep."

Natasha nodded, and gave his shoulder a light pat. "Don't worry. She'll love 'em. Though what I'm _really_ looking forward to is _Steve's_ face when he sees what else we're bringing."

To that, Vision gave a small smile as he recalled his conversation with Tony that morning…

 _"_ _Hey, Vizh…you're headed to, y'know…"_

 _"_ _I am headed to see our mutual friends, Mr. Stark. Do you have a message for me to deliver?"_

 _"_ _Hey, hey; what have I said about that 'Mr. Stark' deal? It's too weird! One Jarvis is enough."_

 _"_ _Apologies, si—_ _ **Tony**_."

 _"_ _It's fine…look, I might as well give ya this. C'mere." He led Vision into his small lab, to a back corner where a familiar-looking round object leaned against the wall._

 _Steve's shield._

 _"_ _I, ah, polished it up and everything. Couldn't get rid of the scratches—guess vibranium is the only thing that can damage vibranium—but, I mean, it kinda gives it character. I touched up the paint, too…" he trailed off awkwardly, running his hand through his hair._

 _"_ _Perhaps you should be telling Captain Rogers this yourself, sir."_

 _Tony didn't even chide him on the slip. "Yeah, I know…" he muttered sheepishly. "But I…" he seemed to give up and changed the subject briskly. "So, which car is Tasha takin'? I'll load it in the back…also got somethin' for the kid…"_

"Somethin' for the kid" had turned out to be a bike. It was painted blue and purple; the perfect size for a child Christy's age.

"I look forward to giving Christy the bicycle." Vision said softly.

Natasha smiled. "She'll like it. She'll also see right through it…"

"How do you mean?"

Natasha's smile faded. "Tony…doesn't do apologies well. He's trying to see how much he can mend things without actually having to mend things. The shield, the bike…it's not a bribe, not at all, but he…he doesn't always know how to deal with people, so he uses things to try and build relationships, instead of putting the effort in himself. It's like he thinks he's not wanted, so he'll give stuff that is."

"I see." Vision replied. Humans really were very complex creatures.

 _You're bringing flowers…_ A chiding voice reminded him.

 _That's different._ He thought back stubbornly.

He wasn't quite sure what he intended to accomplish with the flowers. They were an apology, yes, but he had done enough research to know what a man giving a woman flowers symbolized.

Wanda…he cared about her, he enjoyed her company, and she had provided much-needed friendship and guidance in this confusing new world.

But what did that _mean_?

Perhaps that question could only be solved by talking to her face to face.

* * *

Christy leaned out the window of Lila and Cooper's tree house with the binoculars raised to her eyes.

"See any enemy ships?" Cooper called. They were playing pirates. Cooper was the captain, Christy was the navigator (which, in her mind, was _much_ more important than being a captain, because the navigator was in charge of direction) and Lila was in charge of the "cannons".

"Nope!" Christy called back.

"Then full speed ahead!"

"Wait!"

Cooper and Lila looked over at Christy's excited tone. "I see somebody! It's a car that looks like the one Aunt Tasha drives all the time!"

"Gimme the binoculars!" Cooper cried. Christy handed the device over and the excited boy peered through the lenses.

"Yeah! That is Aunt Tasha's car!"

"I wanna see, I wanna see!" Lila protested, trying to wrestle the binoculars away from her brother.

"Lila, don't snatch." Christy said. "Cooper, let her see."

"Fine." Cooper gave the binoculars to his sister. "I wonder if she's bringing Uncle Bruce."

Christy rolled her eyes. " _I'm_ wondering when those two are just gonna get married already!"

"Dad says the same thing. Mom says give 'em time…"

"She's coming!" Lila shrieked. She thrust the binoculars into Cooper's hand and started to climb down the ladder. Christy and Cooper followed as quickly as possible.

Upon almost crashing into the sleek, black car, it took them a few seconds to note that Natasha was not alone. And that her companion was not Bruce.

"Vizh?" Christy said, shocked.

Vision gave a muted smile. "Hello, Christy."

Christy crashed against Vision, wrapping her arms around him in a huge hug.

"I knew you guys would come back! I knew it! You and Uncle Tony and Rhodey couldn't hide forever!"

"We were not _hiding_." Vision protested. "We were recuperating from a very exhausting and confusing half month."

Christy folded her arms. "Whatever. So, do you wanna see Dad and all them?"

"Yes…that would be nice…" Vision glanced down at the bouquet that was clutched in his trembling fist.

Christy followed his gaze. "Forget Dad…" she mumbled sarcastically. In a louder voice, she added, "I'll go tell them you're here. I'll be back in a second." At that, she dashed up "Avengers Hill" towards her house.

Lila grabbed Natasha's hand. "Come see Nathaniel; he got a new tooth!"

Natasha laughed. "Alright, coming!" Looking at Vision, she added, "Go on, lover boy. I'll get the other stuff out later."

As if in a daze, Vision nodded and began to walk in the direction Christy had gone off in. In a short time, he reached the front door, and hand shaking, reached out to push the doorbell.

The door swung open. Pietro stood grinning in the entryway. He opened his mouth to speak…and then noticed the flowers in Vision's hand.

"I don't think those are for me." he said, deadpan.

"Ah…not really." Vision replied faintly. "Your sister wouldn't happen to be around, would she?"

Rolling his eyes to high heaven, Pietro cried, "Wanda! Someone to see you!" He glanced back at Vision, scowling slightly. "Roses? Really? Smooth, Vizh."

"I was told that they were a gesture of apology…" Vision tried.

"Uh-huh. Right." Pietro's scowl let up a tiny bit. "Nothing personal. Just a brother's job to keep an eye on his sisters'…suitors."

Vision sputtered. "I-I-I-I didn't intend…"

"Vizh?"

Wanda came down the stairs slowly, her face drawn up in a happy but puzzled expression. "What are you doing here?"

The same heat from earlier poured into Vision's face. "I…used the door this time."

Wanda laughed. "Come on, sit down." she said, moving to one of the couches in the living room. "The boys are out back, trying to figure out how to use a riding mower. Or playing with the riding mower. Not sure which. I think Christy's out with them."

Vision moved to sit opposite her on the other couch, looking very nervous.

"I'm…gonna go find Christy…" Pietro said, gesturing wildly at the front door. "I was never here!" he stage whispered.

Wanda sighed. "Oh, _brother_. I think that's my favorite English slang. So, Vizh…nice flowers…"

"Oh, yes!" Vision quickly whipped up the bouquet and held them out formally. "These are an, ah, _apology_ for…"

 _For trying to keep you prisoner? For letting you be hurt in the battle? For letting them lock you away without a fight…?_

"For everything." he said finally.

Wanda nodded graciously and took the gift. "Apology accepted." she replied. "Oh, these are beautiful! I'll get some water…" Knowing that they didn't have a vase, she rummaged around in the kitchen cabinet until she found the tallest, sturdiest cup they owned, and filled it with water.

When she finished, she set the flowers on the kitchen table and sat back down. "You don't need to feel guilty, you know." she said. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I pushed you through the floor…"

"But they _hurt you_ …" Vision cried. "And that…it made me angry."

"Yes, they hurt me." Wanda said patiently. "But none of that was your fault, Vizh." She smiled sadly. "There are plenty of people who will never see me like you do, because of my powers. They fear me, they hate me. They may blame me for the deaths of their loved ones. But these powers…they are a gift. You reminded me of that. The more I know about them, the more I practice, the more I control them. Not the other way around. I can't let fear of people's opinions stop me from using what powers I have. I just have to use them well."

"You seem so much _older_." Vision whispered.

"I feel older." Wanda admitted. "Hopefully wiser. Vizh…about the flowers…"

"Y-yes?"

"I believe you that they were for an apology. But…were you trying to say something else?"

Vision sat quietly for a moment, heart pounding in his chest.

"I don't know." he finally admitted. "I don't _know_. I care about you, in ways that I don't care about the others. When I heard how they had locked up and mistreated you, Mr. Stark began calling me a mopey teenager pining after his crush. But I don't know if that means…I don't know if I am capable of romantic attraction."

"I think you could be." Wanda said slowly. "You seem to be capable of most other emotions. But Vizh…do you think now is a good time to try and start something with us? While you're still trying to figure out who _you_ are?"

Vision shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be fair to you. I need to become more…settled. Find out more about what I can do, who I am."

"I'm still figuring that out, too." Wanda admitted. "I'm not interested in starting some relationship right now, with anyone. I can't give all of me to someone if I don't know who _me_ is."

"I understand." Vision reached out and grabbed Wanda's hand. "But I hope we shall continue to converse…"

"You're my friend, Vision! Of course we can still talk! I'm so happy you came." Wanda smiled. "You're the first to come, besides Natasha. Maybe we can finally start making peace."

"Yes…" Vision whispered. "I think making peace would be a very good thing, indeed."

Inside, his heart swelled. This felt _right_. It was silly to force his relationship with Wanda to be something it wasn't, something neither of them wanted. And something he wasn't really ready for.

But that didn't mean they needed to be distant from each other.

"So, what's been happening at the base?" Wanda asked. "Is Rhodey better? Has Stark gone off the walls yet?"

Vision sat back. "Colonel Rhodes is recovering, slowly but surely, and Mr. Stark is actually doing much better since Miss Potts arrived last month."

Wanda raised her eyebrow. "Pepper came back?" She'd only met the woman a few times, but she'd been duly impressed by her ability to handle all of Tony Stark and keep a pleasant demeanor at the same time. "That must help."

"Oh, immensely! And then there's Peter, you know, the boy in the red and blue suit from Leipzig…"

"The one who shot…white goo from his wrists?"

"Well, it's actually a high-quality material designed to mimic spider silk, but close enough. Anyway, he comes around every so often…"

* * *

Steve just _stared_ at the object that Vision had hauled into his living room.

"I can't believe it." he muttered, shaking his head. "He did it. He _actually_ gave it back."

Christy just grinned. "Told ya he would."

"Well, I mean, I bet the last thing he wanted was a giant vibranium guilt trip sitting around his lab." Bucky drawled.

"Yeah, I'm siding with Barnes on this one." Sam added, folding his arms.

"He said that he cleaned and polished it, and put on fresh paint." Vision piped up. "And when I mentioned that he really ought to be doing this himself, he…didn't say no."

Steve nodded. "Thanks, Vizh. I just…"

"Oh, you're not giving it back!" Bucky said fiercely.

"I can't be _Captain America_ right now, Buck! Fury may've gotten Ross to back down, but that doesn't mean I can go around on missions like I used to. What am I supposed to do with it?"

"We can use it for a sled when it snows this winter." Pietro offered slyly.

Steve made a face.

"Just trying to be helpful!"

"I'll bet."

"You're _always_ gonna be Captain America." Sam argued. "It's a part of you. The shield's just a reminder. Plus, if anything scary or weird goes down in the meantime…"

Steve sighed. "Maybe you're right…"

"If I may…" Vision looked straight at Steve. "I believe Mr. Stark meant this as a peace offering. I did not intend to eavesdrop, but I overheard him discussing with Miss Potts…apparently he accused you of not being worthy of it."

There was dead silence for a moment.

"He did." Steve said levelly.

"Then might he be suggesting that he was wrong to say such a thing, by giving this back to you?"

"He might." Steve replied, his voice hitching a little.

"Perhaps in the interest of making peace, the best thing to do would be to accept this back, in the spirit in which it was given."

Steve nodded, but he still looked troubled.

 _"_ _My father made that shield! You don't deserve it!"_

"Howard made you that shield so you could go out and do the impossible." Bucky said quietly. "I don't think he'd want you giving it up, no matter what I did. Don't think Tony really did, either. He was mad and hurting; nobody ever means what they say when they're mad and hurting."

Steve bowed his head, and curled his hand over the top of the shield. "Alright. Fine. I'll keep it. But it's stayin' hidden in my room 'till I need it again. And I'm not talking about for a sled!"

Pietro shrugged innocently, but the gleam in his eye suggested he hadn't completely given up the idea.

"There was also another present." Vision added. "For Christy."

"Me?" Christy asked, sounding extremely confused.

Once she saw the bike, though, all the confusion melted into pure excitement.

"I love it! I love it! It's so pretty! Tell Uncle Tony thanks…" Suddenly, she stopped, and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Tell Uncle Tony thanks very much…but that I'd rather have him come visit, not his stuff."

Vision nodded solemnly. "I shall pass on your message. And the implications of it."

Christy smiled. "Glad we understand each other."

"What are you going to do with a bike?" Steve asked.

"Ride it, of course."

"You know how? I sure didn't teach you."

Christy fingered the handlebars. "No, but how hard can it be?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "That sounds like the beginning of every bad idea ever."

Sam, on the other hand, looked almost incensed. "Whaddya mean you don't know how to ride a bike?! You're eleven years old!"

"I grew up in Manhattan!" Christy protested. "I didn't _need_ a bike! I took the subway with mom! And rode on Dad's motorcycle, or in one of Uncle Tony's fifty million cars after I got adopted. What did I need a bike for?"

"Well, you've got one now. And I'm gonna teach you to ride it. Unless…" he glanced at Steve and Bucky.

Steve shook his head. "Never could afford it. And a motorcycle's a little bit different."

Bucky grinned. "We'll let you handle this one, old man. I had a bike, but it was a long time ago. Used to let Steve ride on the handlebars."

"It worked out." Steve said, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face. "I think you tried to teach me to ride, but it was more trouble than it was worth. I couldn't balance right and my asthma made it impossible to ride for long."

"Well, I certainly never learned." Vision said, a small amount of sarcasm in his voice.

"Come over for lessons." Sam said dryly.

"Perhaps I might…"

Pietro sent Wanda a mental picture of Vision perched awkwardly on a bicycle. Wanda covered her mouth with her hand to smother her giggles.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Maybe not. But you're welcome back anytime, Vizh."

"Yeah, anytime Team No-Fun gets boring, come on over." Bucky snarked. "Always something going down over here."

"And no hard feelings." Sam added. "You got dragged into something you weren't exactly prepared for."

Vision looked at Sam. "That day, in Leipzig…I wasn't trying to hurt you. The blast would have damaged your wings, but it wouldn't have…" he stopped, eyes pleading.

"I know you weren't tryin' to kill me." Sam finished. "Or hurt Rhodey. But if you're gonna take anything away from that day, remember that actions have consequences. Just 'cause it was an accident doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

Vision nodded. "I know that now. It seems…there are some things that only experience can teach you."

"Ain't that the truth." Bucky muttered.

Vision took a deep breath. He felt so light, it seemed that he was practically floating. Actually, floating felt like a good idea right now…

"Are there any other people around here?" he asked. "I was hoping to go on a short flight."

Steve shook his head. "No one for at least five miles in any direction. Clint picked this place for privacy."

"Want some company?" Sam asked. "I haven't taken the wings out for a spin in a while."

A small smile bloomed on Vision's face. "I would like that very much."

* * *

The sound of soft conversation later that night alerted Tony that Natasha and Vision had returned. He poked his head out of the lab.

"Hey, hey, hey…so, how was it with your lady love, Vizh?"

Vision's eyes widened in shock, before reducing to their normal state. "We have reached an understanding regarding the status of our relationship, and that understanding does not involve romance." he said firmly. "But we are and always will be friends."

Tony snapped his fingers. "Shame. You two were kinda cute together. Ah, well, ya live and learn. Did you deliver the, uh, packages?"

"Steve took back the shield." Natasha said bluntly. "Apparently it took some coaxing, though." She gave Tony a pointed look. "Sometimes words run deep."

A guilty look crossed Tony's face.

"I also have a message from Christy." Vision added. "She said to thank you very much for the new bike, but that she'd rather _you_ come for a visit instead of your 'stuff'."

Natasha tossed Tony another pointed look. Tony threw up his hands.

"I'm trying _not_ to start another fight! I don't wanna go out there while I'm still…"

"You've had almost four months, Tony." Natasha said. "I'm not saying you should be completely fine, but you should be okay enough not to blow up everything with your thrusters."

Tony scowled. "Of course not."

"So what are you waiting for? You're not gonna find the answers you want brooding around in your lab."

"I'll think about it, okay? I'm not gonna go tonight."

Natasha settled for another death glare, and then a softer nod. "Alright. I'll hold you to that. I'm going to bed."

She walked off to her room.

"Glad you had a nice visit." Tony said offhandedly. "You've been pretty down in the dumps lately."

Vision hid a smile at the memory of Bucky calling everyone at the base "Team No-Fun". "I had answers to get and amends to make. Now that I have them, I feel much improved." he paused. "Tony…they don't bite."

Tony let out a long breath. "I know, alright? I'll…"

"You'll think about it." Vision finished sadly.

His own words repeated so despairingly hit Tony harder than any death glare from Natasha or gentle lecture from Pepper or Rhodey.

"Yeah." he finished lamely. "Like you said."

 _"Zemo's plan was to tear the Avengers apart. As long as you're still spitting about Siberia, he wins. As long as you're still refusing to talk with Steve or Bucky or Wanda, he wins! Do you want that?"_

Pepper's words ran through his head, refusing to leave him alone.

 _"_ _You're not gonna find the answers you want brooding around in your lab."_

"Fine." he said softly. "I'll go. Next weekend."

Vision smiled. "An excellent choice, sir."

"Hey, now, what did I say…?"

They were right. They were _all_ right. It was time to give up the ghost and make peace, not war.

* * *

 **That's all folks! Hope I managed to do our favorite Android justice. For a while, I was sort of shipping Vision and Wanda (because it's comic book canon and all...) but then my brain started off in another direction that I like better. So that started me thinking about how, when you barely know yourself, a romantic relationship isn't really the best thing. Vision's got a lot to figure out before he's ready for any kind of "dating," in my opinion.**

 **Tune in next time for the long awaited Tony-quits-hiding-and-hashes-out-his-issues-by-actually-having-a-conversation chapter. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, all; sorry for the slight delay in updating. Good grief, this chapter was a bear to write! But here, at last, is the long-awaited conversation between Tony and Rogue Avengers.**

 **I have to credit the "How It Should Have Ended" Civil War video for helping me out in a certain place. If you've seen the video, you'll know where.**

 **I tried to be fair to both Tony and Steve's positions, but it's a little hard since I am pretty firmly on Team Cap. Both sides had their apologies to make, though.**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

"Tony, you're not going to be sick, are you? 'Cause if you are, I'm pulling over. I'm not driving in a car that smells like throw-up."

Bruce's blunt words and wry tone had an ironic calming effect on Tony's definitely-shot nerves.

He tried to smile. "Sick? Who, me? Nah, no way. Not a chance."

Bruce frowned. " _Tony_ …"

"I'm not gonna be sick! Just…thinking."

"About what?" Bruce probed.

"About…" Tony's voice dropped to a vulnerable whisper. "About what the hell I'm gonna say, alright?"

Bruce sighed. Tony had finally mustered up enough courage to go out to "Avengers' Hill" and talk with the other half of the team. And he was on driving duty, since Natasha still didn't love the idea of giving out Clint's (or Steve's) address willy-nilly.

Also, he cared about Tony (and the others). He didn't want any more explosions, physical or emotional.

The billionaire was currently staring moodily out the window, with a face like a man heading towards execution.

"Look." Bruce said gently. "Whatever the worst thing you're expecting is, it's probably not going to happen. Fear…it's stupid like that. Makes you afraid to try, afraid to push into the unknown. Believe me, _I know_."

Tony fiddled with his shirt. "How come you came? Natasha knows how to find this place."

Bruce shook his head. "Hey. Genius. When is it finally gonna dawn on you that I _like_ hanging around with you? Besides," he gave a self-deprecating smile, "I ditched you the last time there was a fight. Not going to do it again."

Tony waved the statement off. "Ross woulda had you behind bars so fast, it would've made your head spin. I'm _glad_ you weren't involved. And anyway…Tasha called it right."

"Called what right?"

"Right before everything blew up—literally—in Leipzig, we were talking. I said something about how we could really use a Hulk right now, and if Natasha could get ahold of you. She just…shook her head. And said…'Do you really think he'd be on our side?'." Tony groaned. "Should've been my first clue. I should've never…I should've known Ross was bad news from the start. I _did_ know. But I talked myself into thinking it was all for the best…"

"You weren't evaluating the situation correctly." Bruce said. "You were high on emotion and not thinking straight. Granted, I could say the same thing about Steve, later on, but at this point, Barnes wasn't really in the equation."

"I think _everybody_ was high on emotion and not thinking straight, with the Accords." Tony mused. "Even the UN. They did everything in the wake of what happened in Lagos, and they did it fast. Congress hasn't even ratified it yet, and probably won't for ages! So technically, none of what Steve did was illegal…"

"Exactly." Bruce agreed. "And that thing will have to be amended anyway. Let's hope someone with a brain realizes that Ross isn't the right man to put in charge of things by the time it _gets_ amended."

"Oh, I'll do more than hope." Tony muttered, a dangerous gleam in his eye. Bruce knew he was still sore about the whole Raft prison thing, and Ross refusing to listen to him about Bucky's innocence. And an angry Tony was a dangerous Tony. Who knew what kind plan he had up his sleeve?

"Anyway," Tony continued. "You're here now."

"Yeah…" Bruce said quietly. "I'm here."

The two men lapsed into silence until Tony, as usual, broke it. "I still don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say. 'I'm sorry'…that's really not gonna cut it. But I don't…I don't know what else to say."

"Maybe you won't need to say much." Bruce suggested. "And I doubt you'll be the only one making apologies."

"Probably not." Tony said. He paused. "It's not too late to turn back now, right?"

"Tony. We're gonna be there in fifteen minutes. And I'm not driving you back so you can get glared at by Tasha and Pepper, and get the guilt-face of death from Vizh. It's time to face the music."

Tony breathed out slowly.

Bruce was right, as usual. They were all right. This feud…fight…argument— _whatever_ —had already dragged on longer than was healthy.

"Yeah." he echoed weakly. "Time to face the music."

* * *

Sitting on her bed, Christy leaned in on her laptop screen as far as she could go. The figure on the other side of the screen laughed. "You do know you can't come through the computer, right?"

Natalie "Tally" Jackson was Christy's best friend through hell and back, ever since they had been in the same foster care center. Even though the two of them had been apart for nearly five months, it had only taken two minutes of Skype conversation to remind Christy why they were friends.

Christy grinned. "I know. I just miss you!"

"So come and see me!" Tally said. "Unless it's too dangerous…"

"Nah, not anymore. Not as much. Maybe if I talk to Dad, I can come for some long weekend. When's the next one for you…"

"Uh…" Tally scrunched up her face in thought. "I think the next one is soon. We get off for a bunch of Jewish holidays in October. And Columbus Day."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot about those. Rosh Hashanah and stuff. I wish I got those off."

Tally rolled her eyes. "Don't even talk to me about days off. You're _home schooled_ —you could have every day off!"

Christy shook her head. "Not really! Dad rides me pretty hard. Unless I'm puking, I gotta do my work. I don't even get snow days!"

"Neither do we." Tally pointed out. "Well, maybe if it gets bad. But at least you can get your work done fast. I remember you in school—you used to do your homework while the teacher was talking!"

Christy gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, yeah. I do like that part. But I'm gonna try to do some kinda club or sport, so I'm not bored. Maybe basketball, since your brother showed me all his trick moves. How is Damian, anyway?"

"Oh, y'know. Still perfect." Tally's words were rough, but they couldn't quite hide the pride in her voice. Her brother was one of those lucky individuals that excelled both athletically and academically. "He's in some kinda science club at school. Made new friends."

"How about Sienna?"

"Still insanely gifted. She won a prize in an art contest last spring, right before…"

"Oh, yeah!" Christy cried. "I remember she messaged me about it. So she won?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Nah, not really." Sienna, their mutual friend, was a very gifted artist. She was a shy, quiet type, but give her a pen (or pencil, or paint, or chalk) and she could work magic. "But can you ask her to send me a shot of the picture?"

"'Course." Tally sighed. "I still can't believe you went to _Africa_. Lucky."

"Hey, it wasn't like I had much of a choice! Aunt Tasha just showed up and said that the king of some country I'd never heard of was giving us asylum and me and Pietro needed to come with her."

"What's asylum, anyway?" Tally asked, shifting slightly.

"It…basically means giving someone a place to hide out, legally. 'Cause _our_ government was being stupid. But now they called off hunting Dad and everyone else down, so we're safe. Mostly."

"Oh." Tally frowned. "That still doesn't sound so safe."

Christy shrugged. "You'll see. Next time something big goes wrong, they'll see why we need the Avengers. Then we'll really be safe. Until then…we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Is it weird?"

"Well…it was at first. It's so quiet—in Manhattan, it was never quiet, even at night. Especially at night. Out here, there's no skyscrapers, but I can look up at the sky and see stars for _miles_ …" Christy sighed. "You need to come visit."

"Maybe I…" Tally started to say, but Christy suddenly whipped her head away from the screen. "What's wrong?"

"Ah…nothin'." Christy said hastily, turning back. "Just got distracted."

Tally folded her arms. "Crystal Elizabeth Allen Rogers, don't you _dare_ lie to me! _What's wrong_?"

"I…" Christy looked nervous. "Uncle Tony's supposed to come today. I think I saw his car out the window."

It took Tally a minute to match "Uncle Tony" with "Tony Stark—billionaire and Iron Man," and another minute to grasp the weight of Christy's statement.

"He hasn't come to see you since you've been home, has he?"

Christy shook her head.

"He hasn't talked to your Dad since everything blew up, has he?"

"No." Christy bit her lip. "I'm scared." she admitted. "I'm sick of everybody fighting, but I can't just say 'get over it'. You don't 'just get over'…something like this."

Tally felt terrible—her friend was clearly hurting, and she was powerless to do anything.

"Maybe it won't be so bad." she tried. "I mean…they don't have any weapons, right? There won't be any _real_ fighting. Just yelling, maybe."

"Yelling's worse than real fighting sometimes." Christy whispered. "I might go to Uncle Clint's house."

"At least say hi." Tally encouraged. "He doesn't have a problem with _you_."

"You're right…I will. Guess I gotta go now."

"Call me when he leaves." Tally insisted. "I wanna know what happens."

Christy gave a weak smile. "I will. Promise. Bye, Tal'."

"Bye."

The connection closed. Christy sat back on her bed, lost in thought. She jumped at the sound of a quiet knock on her door.

"Come in!" she called. Her dad entered the room, looking very apologetic.

"Hey, baby."

Christy sighed. "How much did you hear?"

"Just the end." Steve assured, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. "Baby…I'm sorry you're worried. I'm sorry you're involved in this at all! But you need to know…this isn't your issue, okay? Me and Bucky and whoever else all need to hash things out with Tony. That's our thing. Not yours. We all wanna make peace…it may just not come quietly."

"I know." Christy shifted forward to lean against her dad. "I can't help it. If people are mad, I'm upset and wanna fix it."

"That's called _caring_." Steve said. Quieter, he added. "Never stop."

"I won't…"

"Good." Steve kissed the top of her head. "Come down with me?"

"Okay."

Together, they walked down the stairs, to the first floor. Everyone else was already assembled, and practicing varying levels of fake nonchalance. Sam and Pietro were perched on bar chairs and Bucky and Wanda were on the sofa.

Steve caught Bucky's eye. "Showtime." he muttered.

Bucky nodded stiffly. He looked worried, too.

"Whatever happens, we keep as cool as possible, understand?" Sam said, ever the voice of reason. He gave Pietro a significant glance.

"I will play nice." Pietro said, steel lining his voice. "But if he touches my sister…"

"If he tries anything, he will find himself floating in the air." Wanda cut in. "But I thought we were making peace."

Pietro had the grace to look sheepish.

"He probably won't try anything." Steve said. "And anyway, his biggest quarrel's not with you two."

"Not with you, either." Bucky pointed out. Wanda put her hand on his shoulder.

"Buck…" Steve tried, but Bucky cut him off.

"Stark was all set to put everything behind him, in Siberia. Until he found out what I did."

"What you did under _mind control_." Sam said firmly.

"Yeah…but I still did it." Bucky gave a bone-weary sigh. "I still did it."

Christy slipped over to the couch and under his arm. She didn't try to say anything—she couldn't think of anything _to_ say. But the gesture spoke louder than any words.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

* * *

Bruce rounded the car around a vaguely familiar curve, and the Barton's farmhouse came into view, along with another house, off to the side and up a slight hill. Tony supposed it had always been there, he'd just never payed attention to it.

Granted, the last time he'd been out to Clint's place was shortly after Ultron. Back then, he'd been too wrapped up in processing the fact that Clint _had_ a place. And kids. And a wife who could rival Pepper in the taking-things-in-stride Olympics.

A lot had changed since then. He breathed out in a quick rush as the car came to a halt beside Clint's house.

"It's easier to park down here and just walk up." Bruce said, breaking into Tony's internal meltdown.

Tony nodded stiffly. "Right. Sure. Whatever you say."

The house door creaked open. Clint appeared, clad in flannel and blue jeans.

"Hey." he called.

Bruce gave an awkward wave and a genuine smile. Tony settled for the awkward wave.

Clint stepped down off the porch. "Goin' up there?"

"Uh…yeah." Tony choked out, cursing himself for how weak and insecure he sounded.

"Hey, futurist." Clint tossed out, voice softer. "They don't bite."

Tony managed to look Clint full in the face. "I don't make a habit of breaking backs. And I screwed up massively with Ross. And…I had no call bringin' up your family like I did. I…I'm sorry, okay?"

Tense silence reigned for several seconds.

"I know." Clint replied steadily. "I know you're sorry. And for whatever you did to me…I forgive you. But I've gotta see some turnaround, Tony. Somethin' tells me this isn't the end…and if more aliens fall outta the sky, I gotta know who I can trust. United we stand, divided we fall and all that. I gotta know you're not gonna get us thrown in prison again."

Tony nodded sharply. "Understood. And…I won't." He clenched his jaw. "I still got a bone to pick with Ross over that. Several bones."

"Fair." Internally, Clint knew that Tony hadn't really been thinking clearly about what getting "locked up" would mean for him and the others. Actually, he'd be darned if Tony had been thinking clearly _at all_. "They're up at the house." he added, gesturing up the hill.

"Right." Tony squared his shoulders and gave a grim smile.

"Want me to come up…?" Bruce started.

"Nah, I…gotta do this myself." Tony gave a long sigh. "We, who are about to die…" he muttered, before starting his long march to the house.

"I really hope the Other Guy doesn't have to come out." Bruce said, only half-joking.

Clint sighed. "Yeah…" He clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "C'mon. Laura will want to see you. And Cooper will insist you help with his latest Lego project."

Bruce gave a small smile and an even smaller nod. The two men turned to walk inside.

Within a few minutes, Tony found himself standing before the front door of a very nice white house. He was trembling so badly, it felt like the wooden floor of the porch would give way beneath him.

He reached out and pressed the doorbell, jumping a bit at the sound. A few seconds passed, and the door swung open.

Christy stood in the space before him: solid, determined, and quiet.

"H-hey, kid, I…"

He didn't get any farther before his body was surrounded by a pair of arms and a chest was pressed against his own.

 _When did she get so_ _ **tall**_ _? A few more inches, and…_

"It's okay, Uncle Tony." Christy said. "It's gonna be okay."

Tony gave a half sob, half laugh. "Kid, you don't even…"

"No, I know." Christy said. They broke apart. "I _know_." she repeated.

Tony saw in her eyes that she did indeed know. Steve had probably told her everything.

"It's still gonna be okay." she finished. "So come in."

And at that, Tony did.

* * *

One look at Tony Stark, and Sam wondered what exactly they had been so afraid of.

Oh, sure, Pietro made a point of edging closer to Wanda, and Steve did the same to Bucky, but the man was clearly in the camp of Guilty As Charged, Don't Hurt Me. Sam's counselor side was screaming at him.

Which is why he said, "Take a load off, man," and pointed over at one of the armchairs.

Tony sat down awkwardly. Sam found himself wishing for Natasha's dry wit; it would sure come in handy right about now.

"So…" Tony started, and then gave up. The usually smooth-talking billionaire seemed at a complete loss for words.

Thankfully (or unthankfully) Pietro finally stepped in. "Oh just apologize already! This is ridiculous, dancing around like cowards."

"Who says I'm here to apologize?" Tony shot back. Pietro had a way of getting under his skin.

In answer, Pietro jutted his chin out in Wanda's direction. "What did my sister ever do to you?"

Tony sighed and seemed to deflate, like a balloon with all the air let out. His eyes were bright with guilt.

"You locked me in my room." Wanda said quietly, an echo of her words in Leipzig.

"I know." Tony replied heavily.

"Were you scared of me?"

Tony paused, obviously weighing his words. But his silence gave Wanda the chance to let all her emotion gush.

"What did you think I would do? Did you think I would go knock down another building? Kill more people? If you had asked, I might have stayed at the base willingly, but instead you treated me like a child and used Vision to do your dirty work!" Wanda paused, her face a mix of hurt and anger. "And then you let them take me to the Raft…"

" _I know_!" Tony cried, voice strangled with emotion. "Dammit, I know! I screwed up, okay! I'm a horrible, horrible person and should probably just go…"

"No." Wanda said firmly, cutting off Tony's self-deprecating spiel. "You are a brilliant man, but you don't think well under pressure. Instead of talking to others, you stay inside your own head until everything curdles like bad milk. And that…that's why I can't hate you, for what you did. But it doesn't make me trust you, either."

Tony hung his head. "You're right. I should've…talked. Said something. And I shouldn't have made Vizh play prison warden. And Ross…" His head hung even lower as he managed to choke out, "Are you _okay_?"

Wanda shrugged. "Nightmares and bruises."

"I'm sorry." Tony shook his head. "Oh, God, I'm sorry…look, I'll make it up somehow, swear…"

"I can't trust you completely right now." Wanda said honestly. "But I will try. And I do forgive you. I know you really are sorry."

Tony gave a half smile. "And Speedy Gonzales over there?"

"I think you weren't thinking." Pietro said. "And I don't hate you much either. But I need to see that you've changed for good." He sighed and grudgingly added, "But don't feel guilty because I've got trust issues, okay? You look like death."

"Same." Sam chimed in. Tony's head swiveled in the direction of the voice. "They really dragged you in over your head, didn't they?" he added softly.

Tony frowned. "I wasn't _stupid_ , Wilson. We do need some kind of oversight."

"From the man who apparently thinks Asgardian gods are things to be controlled? The man who hunted Bruce down like an animal for years?"

"Ross wasn't gonna be the one we'd have to answer to…"

"Then how come he's the only guy I saw?"

"Guys." Steve's voice cut in, weary and ragged. He gave Tony a pointed look. "Tony, were you actually gonna follow those Accords to the letter? And do you actually trust Ross?"

Tony sighed. "No, and no. But…"

"But nothing. You don't trust him. The end."

"It's not the end! This is reality! You have to deal with people you don't trust sometimes. We can't all be…" Tony trailed off, frustrated. "Look, we can't all be you."

"I'm not asking you to be me." Steve said, calmly, but with an urgent edge in his tone. "I'm asking you to _think_ …Tony, how do you think it felt to have that document thrown in front of us? No warning, no prep, no nothing, and half of us still recovering from a fight. No consultation, just…sign or retire. Sign or die."

"Let's not get melodramatic." Tony muttered sarcastically.

"And then I got the call about Peggy, and the UN got bombed…" Steve shook his head. "It was a mess."

"I thought if I could just get you to listen…" Tony said. "I thought maybe you would be okay with the Accords."

"I almost was." Steve murmured. "In Berlin…you said you could get Bucky a plea deal…I almost signed it. But then you said Wanda was basically trapped at the base…Tony, I couldn't! _That's_ what I was fighting against, that loss of freedom I felt when Ross slammed the Accords on the table. I just…I'm not gonna be some plastic hero with a government agenda. I _can't_."

Tony heaved a long sigh. "Y'know, Dad used to tell the story about your first raid. I was thinking about it, after…everything. I guess it finally dawned on me…you went against orders, didn't you? Because of Barnes?"

"I did." Steve said, voice level.

Tony gave a small half-laugh. "Should've known. Should've _remembered_ , more like it."

"I meant everything I wrote in that letter I sent." Steve continued. "Did…you did get it?"

"Yeah, I got it. You…got the shield back, right?"

Steve nodded tightly. "It's in my room. Thanks for the paint job."

Tony looked sheepish. "I…yeah, I, uh, couldn't get the scratches out."

"It's okay. Gives it character."

The two men lapsed into silence, along with everyone else in the room. Then, in a strangled whisper, Christy piped up, "Dad?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"C-can I go to Uncle Clint's house?"

Steve nodded, understanding. "Sure."

Pietro jumped up. "I'll go with her."

"And me." Wanda added, giving Bucky a significant look.

Sam's eyes narrowed, and then he added his assent to the pile. "Me, too. Startin' to feel like _Siberia_ around here."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Oh, you are not subtle at all, are you, Wilson?"

"Nope." Sam smirked. "C'mon, gang. Let's go bug Hawk-boy." He did shoot Steve a 'call me if you need me' look, though, as they went out the front door.

The door closed and Christy breathed a giant sigh of relief.

"There's enough tension in there to light a match." Wanda said. "Made my head hurt."

"At least he got through _one_ apology." Sam muttered. Shaking himself back to the task at hand, he added, "Alright, c'mon. No use standin' around here. They need space to hash it all out."

"Right." Pietro said, swinging Christy onto his back and dashing down the hill at the speed of light. Wanda and Sam followed behind at a much more sedate pace.

"I hope it really turns out okay…" Wanda said. "There was too much emotion in all their heads…it was pouring out like overflow."

Sam put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Do you still have a headache?"

"No, no; I'm fine now…" Wanda stole a glance back at the house.

"They'll be fine." Sam assured her. "They're big boys; they'll work it out."

Wanda gave a sad smile. "Maybe. I hope so. I am so tired of fights…these kind, anyway. Family fights. I hate them."

"It'll be okay." Sam sighed. "It will."

 _Now please,_ _ **please**_ _don't let me be tellin' lies…_

* * *

Meanwhile, in "Siberia," Steve, Bucky, and Tony sat like statues.

"How long did you know?" Tony finally asked, looking at Steve with an expression like betrayal.

"Know what?" Steve asked.

"Don't…" Tony stopped, took a deep breath. "My parents. _How long did you know_?"

Steve looked at Bucky. "Two, three days?" he hedged. He turned back. "Honest, Tony, it wasn't more than that. It was after Zemo showed up…"

Tony nodded, feeling the tiniest of weights slip off him. At least Steve hadn't been keeping this a secret for the past two years, like he'd feared.

"I…suspected." Steve admitted. "Maybe less than that. When Nat and I went to Camp Lehigh and found Computer-Zola…he was flashing all these images and talking about how 'accidents would happen,' and he flashed this newspaper clipping…but there wasn't any way for me to know anything for sure. And no proof that Bucky did it. So I didn't say anything."

"So you didn't say anything." Tony repeated dully.

"Tony…I know I hurt you. I'm sorry. I thought…it was just conjecture, and I didn't wanna throw you off base if I was wrong, so I kept quiet. Now I wish I'd said something sooner."

Tony breathed out slowly. Really, none of this was Steve's fault. Maybe it would have been nice to know about HYDRA's connection to his parents' deaths sooner, but Steve was right. At the time, he'd had nothing but conjecture and the 'dying' words of a madman.

No, Steve's only crime was excessive loyalty to his friends. And speaking of friends…

"I'm sorry, Tony."

Tony almost jumped for shock. Bucky Barnes, five feet away from him, was looking over, guilt dripping from his face.

"I know what I did." Bucky continued. "I know now, even if I didn't know then. I know I hurt you…robbed you of a lot. But I want you to know…I'm sorry. If I could take it back, I would! But I can't."

Bucky's face and tone were the picture of sincerity. But his words caused something to break loose inside of Tony.

"You're _sorry_?! You don't get to be sorry! You killed my mom! The only person that ever gave a damn besides Jarvis and actually…you _killed_ her! Wrung her neck like some animal and didn't even break a sweat! And my Dad…" He stopped, choked. "I didn't even get the chance to make it up to him. I didn't…" He started to lunge forward, but Steve beat him to the punch, holding him back.

"Tony, Tony _please_ …" Steve's voice was low but his tone was borderline panicked. That alone was enough to snap Tony out of it. He sat back.

"You're right." Bucky said, calm as anything, as if a man hadn't just attempted to jump on him. "I _shouldn't_ get to be sorry. Hell, I shouldn't even be alive. I don't deserve it. I deserve death, because nothing less could make up for what I did."

"Bucky, it wasn't you!" Steve countered. "What you did all those years, it wasn't you!"

"Steve, shut your trap a few minutes, alright?" Bucky said, not taking his eyes off of Tony. Steve's eyebrows flew up. It wasn't often that Bucky "pulled rank" in their friendship, not like when they were younger…

But there was no mistaking it. That was Bucky's "I'm in charge" tone.

"I did those things." Bucky continued. "I killed Howard and Maria Stark in cold blood. I killed two dozen others and a lot more that didn't get recorded. And even if my head wasn't mine, it was still my finger pullin' the trigger! I did it! And I…" He hung his head. "I accept responsibility. But I _am_ sorry. And for the rest of my life, I'll do whatever I can to make it right. _Anything_. You wanna throw me in the Raft? Lock me up for good? Maybe bust my head off?" His voice broke, "Well, I'm here."

He dropped his head even lower and stuck out his arms, wrists together, waiting for the proverbial handcuffs.

Steve's face was frozen in horror, his jaw slack.

 _It's his choice,_ _ **his choice**_ _, but oh, God, when I said he could choose I didn't think he'd choose_ _ **this**_ _!_

And Tony sat still, remembering.

Remembering the shock of that phone call, stating that his parents had been killed in a car accident. Remembering the grief and guilt he'd tried to push away, and the insane amount of alcohol he'd consumed. Remembering that he'd never told his dad "I love you".

Remembering his mother's final kiss on his cheek. (Because that part of the memory had been real.)

Remembering…

 _HYDRA. HYDRA wanted the drug packets. HYDRA ordered the hit on my parents. HYDRA wants to watch the world crumble…_

 _Like Zemo._

 _"_ _As long as you're still spitting about Siberia,_ _ **he wins**_ _!"_

 _You don't understand!_ Tony tried to argue. _He killed my mom! My dad. He admits it!_

 _And_ _ **you've**_ _never done anything wrong?_ Something else in him shot back. _Never done anything you regretted later? Would your mom think this was a fitting way to avenge her death? By punishing a man sent through hell and back?_

No. No, Maria Stark would _not_ be pleased. Neither would Howard.

And how would making Steve miserable make his own grief better?

Slowly, Tony reached out and pushed Bucky's arms down.

"I'm not takin' you anywhere." he said quietly. "And I'm not bashing your head in."

Bucky lifted his head up and breathed out a long, shaky sigh. "Thank you." he whispered.

"You were actually _scared_?" Tony questioned. Even before, when he'd been so angry…he hadn't even _considered_ turning Bucky over to anyone. And since he didn't have the suit, Bucky definitely had the upper hand in a fight.

Bucky shrugged. "I _said_ you could take me away or kill me." he said bluntly. "I don't deserve a whole lot less."

Tony barely kept his jaw from dropping.

 _He would've held back on purpose…let me do anything…_

"Bucky…" Steve whispered. "That's not true."

"An eye for an eye…" Bucky started.

"Makes the whole world blind, okay?" Tony cut in. "Zemo already won round one; I'm not letting him win round two. It's safe to say that none of us gets exactly what we deserve and I for one am very, _very_ happy about that." He faced Bucky, square on. "You're off the hook. Black ledger. I…forgive you." He shuddered. "There, I said it."

It cost him a lot to say those words. But he couldn't deny the overwhelming freedom that uttering them gave him.

He turned to Steve. "I have been…something of an ass to you. I'm sorry I didn't consult you about the Accords. Sorry I didn't listen when you tried to explain about Zemo. Sorry I was an emotional wreck…"

"It's alright." Steve said. "I forgave you long time ago, Tony."

"No, it…it wasn't alright." Tony sighed. "It wasn't alright."

"It wasn't." Steve agreed. "But I still let it go."

Bucky was leaning back on the couch, a look approaching stunned rapture spread all over his face.

"Hey, uh, Captain Cold?" Tony said. "You still with us?"

Bucky shook himself and nodded. "I…I just… _thank you_."

The relief and gratefulness in his voice was overwhelming. Tony felt suddenly humbled (a _very_ weird occurrence for him). "You're welcome."

Steve breathed out all his pent-up anxiety. "I _think_ we should let the others know that nobody died."

"Nice plan." Tony agreed flippantly.

Bucky nodded, still in a slightly dazed state.

As they walked down the hill, Tony said quietly, "Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"You…you remember that time, back in New York with the Chitauri thing…you asked me what I was if I took off the suit."

Steve nodded sheepishly. "You said 'genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist'. And I said…"

"'I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.'" Tony quoted. "I think…I think I know who you were talking about. And I agree."

It had taken guts for Bucky to essentially put his life in Tony's hands. Guts that Tony wasn't sure he possessed himself.

Bucky, who had been attempting to not eavesdrop (and failing thanks to enhanced hearing), stopped cold.

"Yeah, I'm talkin' about you, Manchurian Candidate." Tony said, grinning a little. "We hit it off not so bad, before all this. Wanna…try and get that back?"

Bucky nodded, a kind of peace settling on his face. "I'd like that." he replied softly. "I'd like that a lot."

* * *

As soon as Steve opened the door to Clint's house, they were greeted by Christy's shriek of, "You didn't kill each other!"

"Well now I feel terrible…" Tony muttered, as Christy flung herself on Steve, then Bucky, and finally onto him.

"I told you it would work out okay." Sam called from the living room.

"I know, _I know_!" Christy yelled back. "I was still worried." she confessed. "You guys were pretty upset before we left."

Bucky placed his arm over her shoulders. " _I_ am going to tell you a secret of life, doll. It's…it's _okay_ to be upset and yell sometimes. But you gotta stop eventually. You gotta listen and hear people out. And you gotta let stuff go."

Christy smiled. "That's more than one secret."

"I thought you hated math."

"I can _add_!" With a _hmph_ , Christy looked back at Steve and Tony. "So are you guys done fighting now? And is Uncle Tony done pretending he actually agrees with Accords?"

Steve burst out laughing. Tony tried to look affronted…and failed miserably.

"Yeah, I think we're done with all that, baby." Steve finally choked out. Tony gave a reluctant nod.

"Good. Now we're done fighting and we can quit acting like a war happened and Uncle Tony's the enemy."

"Hey!" Tony cried. "Who says _I_ was the enemy?"

Christy shrugged. "Not you. Ross maybe. Anyway, I'm glad the war's over."

As Tony let himself be led into Clint's living room and felt Bruce's hand grab his shoulder, he couldn't help but think the same thing.

 _Civil Wars are overrated…and if Ross presses the point…well, revolutions are always in style. And every revolution needs a man on the inside._

But he wouldn't be raring for a confrontation with Ross. Instead, he would try to relax and bask in the fragile sense of peace all around him.

They still had a long road to go. But the journey started right here.

* * *

 **Annnnd, that's a wrap. Hope I did justice to the conversations/apologies.**

 **I'm not implying that everyone is completely over everything. That's not reality. But I am saying that they've reached the point where they're not letting the past define their present relationships. Tony strikes me as someone who doesn't take the time to evaluate things (especially in Civil War). Here, he finally gets that chance, and his common sense prevails.**

 **Tune in next time for Birthday Twins and the gang turning tourist on New York City. (Which is _not_ getting written because I just went to New York City, not at all...) And after that comes a visit from Spidey! Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello, hello! So...last chapter, I promised you all a Maximoff birthday/sight-see New York City chapter. And I will write that chapter. But...Mr. Peter Parker was very insistent about showing up again in the story. So, I obliged. (I don't think anyone's complaining.) This chapter was mostly derived from starting to binge-watch _Spectacular Spider-Man_ , and feeling bad about the large amount of crap that Peter has to deal with, with no one to really confide in. Not in the ChristyVerse, says I!**

 **Anyway, on with the show. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Peter Parker ducked his head and barely managed to stifle a yawn.

 _Oh for cryin' out loud, it's only the middle of the afternoon! How am I_ _ **this**_ _tired? C'mon Parker, you can do it! Stay awake!_

But his attempts to psych himself up were failing miserably. Even his current location couldn't lend him energy.

He was at Stark Tower, kicking off a "science bros weekend" with none other than Tony Stark and Bruce Banner…and he was crashing like a kindergartner who'd missed his nap!

"So, kid, there's nothing to it! You put the hydraulic acid in the…" Tony stopped abruptly. "You feelin' okay kid? You look like death warmed over."

Bruce glanced up from his own project and gave Peter a scrutinizing once-over.

"No, no—Mr. Stark, I'm fine, honest! J-just a long week, uh, g-getting' back in the swing of things with school and…Spidey, and…broken promises…"

Bruce raised his eyebrow. "Broken promises?"

Peter hung his head. "I promised my friend I'd help him study, like, twice now, and I accidently blew him off because…Spiderman. I just got busy and forgot. And now he's mad, and then there's these jerk jocks that think I'm the world's best punching bag…"

"They beat you up?" Tony asked, in a tone that indicated he wanted to slip on the Iron Man suit and go "hunting".

Peter nodded. "Couple times. I…I wanna use my powers, but…"

"You don't want to make them obvious." Bruce filled in. "You could always say you're taking martial arts lessons somewhere."

"But that's just one more lie…" Another huge yawn suddenly slipped out. It was so big, Peter's head actually went backwards and both men could see down his throat.

"Right, that's it." Tony said. "What time did you hit the sheets last night, Underoos?"

"Uh…one a.m.? Maybe? I had homework to finish."

"And school starts what time, eight?"

"Gotta be up to catch the bus at six-thirty."

"And is this more or less your normal schedule?"

"Y-yeah, during the week…"

Bruce shot Tony a look. Tony nodded.

"Bed. Now." The billionaire proclaimed, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Peter argued anyway. "But Mr. Stark, I'm fine, honest! I just need some coffee…"

"No coffee." Bruce said, putting his arm around Peter's shoulders. "The Common Floor's got nice couches and plenty of blankets. I know you think you're invincible, but take it from someone older and hopefully wiser— _you're not_."

Still keeping up a token protest (but secretly grateful) Peter let himself be hauled down to the Common Floor. Pepper Potts was at the bar, typing something on her laptop.

She looked over at the commotion. "What's wrong?"

Tony jerked his head at Peter. "This one's trying to drive himself into an early grave."

Bruce and Pepper shared a very significant glance over Tony's head. Tony still caught it.

"Yeah, yeah; I know…but this is different! So he's gonna take a nap. Where'd you stash the blankets, Pep?"

Pepper sighed. "Same place they've been for the past month, Tony—under the entertainment cabinet. Honestly, if your head wasn't attached…" She shook her head and gave up, turning her attention to Peter. "You're not sick, are you, honey?"

Peter shook his head. "No ma'am, not sick. Just…tired, I guess. My, uh, better half's been busy, and this half…same."

"Well, then I think a nap is most definitely in order." Pepper said firmly. _And possibly a break altogether…_ "You just go on and lay down over there—I won't let Tony do anything fun without you."

Peter gave a wan smile, before walking over to the aforementioned couch. "Thanks, Miss Potts."

He grabbed the blanket that Tony had helpfully flung on the floor, and settled down. The Tower Common Floor _did_ have really nice couches, all plush and soft…

Bruce and Tony were talking softly to Pepper, and Peter slowly shut his eyes, letting the business and science technobabble wash over him like a lullaby.

 _Maybe this whole nap thing actually has some weight to it…_

In about ten minutes, he was out cold.

Bruce glanced over at the couch. "I think he's asleep."

"Good." Tony muttered. "Crazy kid…try'na run a two-bit superhero operation outta his metaphorical basement, _and_ deal with grades and teenage _idiots_ …"

"I'm gonna ask Natasha to give him a few pointers." Bruce said quietly. "If anyone asks, he can say he's gettin' fighting lessons _pro bono_ , thanks to his supervisor's connections."

Tony looked blank.

"He _is_ technically here on an internship." Bruce elaborated.

"Oh, yeah, right…"

Pepper frowned. "He's being bullied at school?"

Bruce nodded. "Typical suffering of nerds across the ages, from jealous idiots that have nothing better to do with their lives. Luckily, _smart_ doesn't have to mean _weak_."

"Poor kid…" Pepper stole a glance at the sofa, a "mama bear" gleam in her eye. "I think he needs a vacation."

"No kidding." Tony said. "But where? Malibu? I could fly there in a couple of hours…"

Bruce suddenly grinned. "I've got an idea a lot closer to home. It's a…well, I wouldn't call it a _peaceful_ place, but I never leave without feeling more at ease. Same with the Other Guy."

Tony and Pepper looked massively confused for a moment, before they both caught on.

"Oh, that sounds perfect!" Pepper said happily.

Tony nodded, weighing pros and cons in his head.

"You alright to go out there so soon, Tony?" Bruce asked. "I can just drive him myself…"

Tony shook his head. "Nah…I gotta do this. More I go, less awkward it gets. Besides, we'll have Peter to distract us."

"And this time, _I'm_ going." Pepper said, leaving no room for any discussion. "I haven't seen everyone in ages."

 _And I'll be there to make sure everyone plays nicely…_

"I guess we could swing by the base and pick up Vizh, and maybe Rhodey if he feels up to it." Tony said. "And Natasha."

Bruce shook his head. "If you guys are gonna be otherwise occupied, I might…take advantage of a free weekend."

Pepper smiled. Tony whistled and said, "Bruce, Bruce Bruce—I never knew you had it in you!"

Bruce rolled his eyes, but a faint blush crept over his face.

"Anyway," Tony continued. "Somebody needs to call ahead and warn Robin Hood and his merry men that company's comin'."

"On it." Bruce said, grabbing his phone.

Tony sat back on the couch across from Peter, looking as pleased as if he'd thought of the idea himself.

* * *

Peter woke up to the smell of takeout Chinese and background conversation. He sat up, disoriented, and looked at his watch.

 _6:30?_ _ **P.M.**_ _?_

Everything came rolling back into his head. He was at Stark Tower. It was Friday afternoon. He'd been strong-armed into taking a nap…

 _Wow, I really_ _ **was**_ _tired—I crashed for at least two hours!_

Suddenly, Tony's face was looming over him. "Hey, champ. Hungry?"

Peter stood up slowly. "Yeah…I could eat."

Bruce, already in the kitchen, laughed. "The rallying cry of teenage boys everywhere."

As Peter dished himself up a plate, Tony cleared his throat. "Uh, kid…we couldn't help but notice you seemed kinda out of it."

Peter opened his mouth to argue otherwise, but Tony continued. "No, don't fight me on this, Spiderling, I think you need a vacation. And I've got the perfect place in mind. Tomorrow, we're going on a road trip."

Peter's first gut reaction was mild panic. (After all, Mr. Stark's last "road trip" had been flying to Germany and fighting the other Avengers.)

"Uh…Mr. Stark…when you say road trip…"

"He's not taking you out of the country." Bruce assured. "Not even out of the state. And Pepper's coming."

"Oh, thank God." Peter gasped out. Blushing, he tried to recover himself. "N-not that the last time…"

Tony cut him off. "No, kid, the last road trip I took you on sucked. Horribly. This one will be a lot nicer, I promise."

Peter nodded and dug into his dinner. "So…where are we going?"

Tony smirked. "That's for me to know, and you to find out, Spiderling. Just wait and see."

* * *

Saturday mornings on Avengers' Hill were generally late, loud, and full of food. Breakfast food, to be exact. And this morning was no different.

"I still can't believe we need a whole carton and a half of eggs for one breakfast." Sam muttered, whisking said amount of eggs in a bowl.

Steve gave a rueful grin. "Sorry 'bout that. Blame the serum, I guess." He ladled pancake batter onto a griddle and waited for the mix to start bubbling.

"Hey, I'm not apologizing." Bucky joked from his seat at the bar. The semi-unspoken rule was that the kitchen could only handle two people at a time, and Steve and Sam had gotten up first. So they were on cooking duty.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, didn't count on that. Where's everyone? This isn't gonna take long to cook, and the bacon's ready."

"Wanda's upstairs, I think…and Pietro's out back doin' _something_ with Christy." Bucky snorted. "God knows. I don't know which one's crazier."

"Pietro." Steve said. "Definitely Pietro."

Laughing, Bucky walked over to the stairs. "Hey, Wanda! Breakfast soon!"

"Coming!" Came Wanda's faint cry from her room.

Sleeping arrangements had sorted themselves out rather nicely. Everyone had voted to give Sam the bedroom on the first floor, which he had agreed to after a lengthy "discussion" ("And because I'm the only one of you people that doesn't have separation anxiety!"). Steve and Bucky had the two rooms on the second floor, and on the third floor, Pietro had the small room, while Wanda and Christy shared the large one.

In a few minutes, Wanda came floating down the stairs—literally—in a cloud of red energy.

Bucky smirked. "Having fun?"

Wanda tossed her hair back as she descended to the ground. "Yes. Lots. Where's Pietro?"

"Probably outside, judging by the screams."

Rolling her eyes, Wanda opened the front door and peered outside. "Christy! Pietro! Time for food!"

Pietro was up the hill in a flash, carting Christy's bicycle on his shoulder. Christy followed a few seconds behind.

"Do I want to know what you were doing?" Wanda asked.

"I was trying to race Pietro on my bike." Christy said, slightly disgruntled.

Wanda held back a laugh. "Who won?"

" _Him_." Christy ground out.

"But you were pretty good, _mače_!" Pietro said. "And you only fell twice."

Wanda frowned. Sam's lessons were paying off, and Christy was learning fast, but she still wasn't completely steady on a bike. "No cuts?"

Christy shook her head. "No cuts. Just grass stains."

"Fine. Now, put that thing away and come eat! You know we have company coming."

"Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper and Vizh…" Christy mused, as she walked her bike to the side of the house and put down the kickstand. "And a surprise person, Uncle Bruce said. I wonder who."

Pietro shrugged. "Colonel Rhodes?"

"Maybe…but he wouldn't really be a surprise…oh, well, guess we'll find out soon."

Breakfast was its normal, cheerful affair, and everyone divided up helping with clean-up. A little past noon, Christy caught sight of a bright red convertible rolling up the road and everyone went to look.

"He's not subtle at all, is he?" Bucky muttered.

Steve raised his eyebrow. " _Tony_? You have to _ask_?"

Bucky grinned. "Guess not."

"I see Vizh in the back…and Rhodey." Sam said, from his spot at the front window. "Tony's up front, Pepper's ridin' shotgun. But there's someone else in the back…"

"They're stopping at Clint's house." Wanda cut in. "Should we go down?"

"I guess we can…" Steve started. But he hadn't even finished the sentence before Christy was out the door and flying down the hill. Pietro and Wanda followed in close pursuit.

Bucky did a double-take…and then rushed after them.

Sam laughed. "C'mon; I think we should go down."

Steve shook his head. "Yeah…I guess so."

 _Might as well join the party…_

* * *

As far as road trips went, Peter decided, this one was definitely less stressful than the last one he'd taken with Mr. Stark. Even being squashed in the back between Vision and Colonel Rhodes, the ride wasn't so bad.

Rhodey, who had progressed enough that a short car ride wouldn't give him any relapses, was a pretty good storyteller (mostly of embarrassing stories involving Tony). Tony, meanwhile, could give as good as he got, and the ride was mainly full of watching the two old friends snark at each other.

Finally, they pulled up in front of what looked like a decent-sized farmhouse.

"As I live and breathe." Rhodey muttered sarcastically. "The fabled farm of Clint Barton. This place actually exists."

Peter frowned at the unfamiliar name. " _Who_ lives here?"

"Clint Barton." Vision said, a small amount of mirth in his tone. "You may know him better as Hawkeye."

Peter's eyes got wide. "Wait—wait… _Hawkeye_ lives here? The guy with the bow and arrows?"

"The one and only." Tony said, getting out of the car to come help Rhodey. "But don't tell him I said that; he's already got a swelled head."

"That is _rich_ comin' from _you_ , Stark." Said a voice from behind them. Clint came down the stairs of the porch, with two small figures trailing him.

"Clint! How are you?" Pepper said, stepping forward. "And…Lila and Cooper, right?" She had only met Clint's children once or twice, but she prided herself on being able to remember names.

Cooper nodded. "Hi, Miss Pepper."

"Oh, none of that, sweetie, you call me 'aunt', if you want. I hope to be seeing more of you guys."

Lila looked speculative. "Dad says you keep Uncle Tony from doing stupid things."

Pepper smirked. "Well, I try…"

"So how come you didn't stop him from signing the Accords?"

"Lila!" Cooper cried. "You can't just say stuff like that!"

"Why not? Christy would."

Pepper laughed. "Yes, Christy would. Honestly, sweetheart? I made a mistake. I thought Tony…I thought he needed time by himself. But he doesn't work so well like that. And I didn't realize how bad the Accords were…until it was too late."

Lila nodded, satisfied. "Do you wanna see my baby brother?"

"I would love to."

Clint smiled. "Right. You two, take Aunt Pepper inside and introduce her to Mom. _Be nice_."

Peter, meanwhile, was trying to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"So…you're Hawkeye." he said slowly. "The guy with the really cool arrows."

"That's me, the World's Greatest Marksman." Clint said, only half kidding.

"And…and you have _kids_?"

"Yup, three of 'em. The youngest is with my wife. You'll probably like her—she has better social skills than I do. And you would be…?"

"Oh, that's Peter." Tony said. "You may know him better as Spiderman."

Clint just looked confused…and then a light dawned in his eyes.

"You?! You're…you're the guy from Leipzig? With the suit…" Clint gave the boy a fast once-over. "Good grief, Tony, what'd ya do, raid the local high school?" he asked indignantly.

"Barton, _I know_." Tony said, his tone leaking with guilt. "I know."

Clint shook his head. "Damn, maybe you do need oversight."

"It's a mistake he _won't_ be making again." Rhodey said firmly.

"I…I can fight." Peter piped up, feeling slightly annoyed. "I'm not a kid."

Clint sighed. "I know you can fight. I've _seen_ you fight. But Tony, as I'm sure he knows, had no call draggin' you into our mess."

"Hey, it was all hands on deck!" Tony argued. "You brought in Ant-Guy…"

"Ant- _Man_ , and at least he's old enough to vote…"

Vision gave a long, loud sigh. "Please, could we cease this petty _arguing_? Any more of this, and I am going up to the Mansion."

Rhodey nodded. "Yeah, I'm with the Android. And I wouldn't mind a chair…"

Clint suddenly seemed to remember his hospitality skills. "Front porch okay?"

"Yeah, sounds fine…"

As they got Rhodey into one of the white rocking chairs, Peter asked, "So, who lives in the Mansion?"

Vision smiled. "Look behind you. I do believe the cavalry has arrived."

Peter turned, and felt his jaw go slack with shock.

At the head of the pack was a small blonde girl that he didn't recognize at all. Behind her came two figures, a man and a woman. The man was blonde and the woman was brunette…

 _Wait…_ Peter's eyes narrowed. _Holy crap, that's Scarlet Witch! And the other guy…oh, her brother! The one that almost died last year. They call him Quicksilver. Wonder why he wasn't in Germany?_

Behind those three came three more figures that Peter _definitely_ recognized, even in normal clothing. He felt his stomach twist.

 _Captain America, Falcon, and the Winter Soldier…_

He turned abruptly to Tony. "Why did you bring me here?"

"For a vacation." Tony said. Peter looked skeptical. "Look, kid, you needed a break. This is the middle of nowhere."

"My break is gonna involve getting pounded by Captain America?"

"He's not gonna pound you! We…we made up. He might pound _me_ when he sees how young you really are…" Tony sighed. "But none of them have any problem with you. And I wanted you to meet them _not_ in a fight. They're…all actually decent people. More than decent. Better than me, most of the time…"

Tony self-deprecation was cut off by Christy slamming into him for a hug. "Hi, Uncle Tony! Who's the surprise visitor?"

"Right here." Tony said, disentangling himself. "Peter Parker, aka _Spiderman_ , I'd like you to meet Christy _Rogers_."

"Uh…" For the second time that morning, Peter lost his powers of speech. "The heck?"

Christy's expression gave more-or-less the same sentiment, but she recovered faster. After all, she had been doing the whole "meet new people with powers" thing for nearly four years. And she'd heard the account of the fight in Leipzig about five or six times.

"Steve Rogers is my dad." she elaborated. "You might know him better as Captain America, the guy that kicked your butt."

The last was said with a large amount of childish pride.

"Ooh, and aren't you the guy that tried to read Sam his Miranda Rights in the battle? And who geeked out over Uncle Bucky's metal arm?"

Peter shook his head, trying to keep up. "Uh, I dunno…maybe?"

"Oh, right, you only know superhero names."

Steve, having overheard the last bit of the conversation, came up laughing. "Go slow, baby. He's probably a little dazed." He glanced at Peter. "So, you're the Spiderman…"

Peter felt his spine stiffen in an unconscious attempt to match the super soldier's height. "Yes, sir." he managed to say steadily. "And…I really am a big fan. I didn't…" he hung his head. "I didn't know what I was doing. I don't really think you were wrong, anymore."

"Thank you for that." Steve said gently. "But don't worry, I don't blame you. _Tony_ on the other hand…" he looked grim.

"Look, Mr. Captain America…"

"'Steve' is fine, kid."

"S-steve, then. Uh, listen, please don't go too hard on Mr. Stark. He already feels pretty bad about getting me involved."

Steve sighed. "Alright. I'm sure he does…"

"How old _are_ you, anyway?" Christy asked.

Unfortunately, she asked it very loudly, and during a lull in other conversation. Everyone stopped to listen.

"Um…" Peter licked his lips. "T-twenty."

Pietro started laughing uproariously. Wanda elbowed him in the ribs, but even she didn't look convinced.

"If he's twenty, I'll eat my wings." Sam muttered to Bucky.

"Kid." Pietro said finally. " _I'm_ twenty-one." He gestured at his own large frame, and then at Peter's smaller one. "You are _not_ twenty."

"S-seventeen?"

"Was that a question?"

"He's fifteen, alright?" Tony burst out. "High school sophomore."

Steve winced. "Tony…you were that desperate?"

"I go out and fight on my own!" Peter said, eager to defend his mentor (and himself). "I patrol all through Queens and Manhattan—wherever there's crime. I've stopped robbers and gang members and drug dealers—and I'm proud of it!"

Steve's already upset face got even more upset. "Kid…you do know that kinda stuff is dangerous, right? I know you've got powers, but…"

He stopped, because Bucky had _lost it_. At first, he'd tried to hold the laughter in, but it had quickly spilled out until his whole body was shaking with mirth.

Tony, Rhodey, and Vision all looked shocked; none of them had ever seen Bucky so carefree before. Peter, of course, was just utterly confused. Everyone else looked torn between happiness (because if anyone deserved to bust a gut, it was Bucky) and puzzlement.

Finally, he got control of himself. Turning to Steve, he sputtered out, "Y-you…are the w-world's biggest h-hypocrite, Steve Rogers! I c-can't believe you… _dangerous! Dangerous!_ You know what's _dangerous_? A skinny little punk with asthma, who's caught every illness known to man, picking fights with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that looks at someone cross-eyed! _That's_ dangerous." He pointed at Peter. "At least this kid had the decency to get some enhancements _before_ he started takin' on bullies!"

Meanwhile, Christy was whispering to Peter and showing him on her phone. The teenager's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets.

"You were _this_ tiny?" he said to Steve, rather inelegantly. He tried to amend his question, but Bucky was already tapping the image displayed on the phone and nodding vigorously.

"Yup, that was him. Skinny as a rail, with the immune system of a half-dead slug…"

Steve rolled his eyes and gave Bucky a shove. "I was _not_ that pathetic."

Peter probably would have been a lot more concerned at Bucky's behavior had he not just witnessed Tony and Rhodey doing the exact same thing for the past hour—pushing each other's buttons, because they'd earned the right to.

But his stomach still felt strange and flip-floppy because this was the _Winter Soldier_ , the _scary assassin_ who could probably kill him twenty different ways…

 _Stop it._ He thought firmly. _You know what Natasha said. He's not that person anymore, and he didn't ever wanna be that person in the first place. The bad guys messed with his head._

Of all the Avengers he'd interacted with, Natasha was the only one he was remotely comfortable calling by first name. Mainly because she'd threatened bodily harm if he ever did otherwise.

 _"_ _Don't call me ma'am, and don't call me Miss Romanoff. I'm not a school teacher. Little slips are okay, but keep calling me 'ma'am' and I'll show_ _ **you**_ _why they call me Black Widow…_

Despite her occasional scary demeanor, it was Natasha who had really broken down the secret world of the Avengers to him—and the complex personalities and backstories of those who inhabited said world.

He glanced back at a slight noise to see a brunette woman with a toddler on her hip open the front door. "You guys can come in if you want…" her eyes caught sight of Peter. "Oh, who's this?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Remember that crazy spider-guy I told you about…?"

Laura nodded, looking at Peter more closely. "You didn't say he was in high school."

"I didn't _know_ he was in high school! He wore a onesie with a facemask!"

"Hey, I worked hard on that suit!" Tony protested. "It wasn't a onesie!"

Laura rounded on him next. "So you recruited a _child_ to fight half of the _Avengers_?"

Tony looked ready to blow his stack, but Laura had a glare very similar to Pepper, and his blustery feelings slowly disintegrated. "Yeah, I did."

Sam shrugged. "Hey, not sayin' it was right, but if he _had_ to recruit a teenager, at least it was one that could fight." He nodded at Peter. "You got some pretty good moves, kid. Cut down on the conversation and you'll be a class act in no time."

Peter shrugged bashfully, well aware that he'd just been paid a compliment by _Falcon_. "Guess it's sort of a reflex…the suit's like a cover-up, so I can say everything I can't normally."

"Eh…guess that's fair."

As Peter let himself be led into the house, he could hear Christy saying, " _So_ … _Dad_ …he's fifteen. That's only four years older than me. How come he gets to be a superhero and I can't?"

Steve groaned. Peter had a feeling that this was not a new argument. "I thought you wanted to be a therapist."

"I _do_ , but I don't see why I can't be a therapist _and_ fight bad guys. One's the steady job, one's the if-the-world-needs-it job. It's perfect!"

"Trust me, you _don't_ want powers." Peter blurted out.

Christy cocked her head. "How come?"

Peter sighed and sat down heavily on one of the living room couches. Christy flopped down next to him.

"Look, my powers, they're like a job. And they're a lot of responsibility. I have to lie to people, because they can't know about my powers, and I have to act like less than myself, because people can't know about my powers. And…and it really is dangerous."

Christy nodded slowly. Peter wasn't really saying anything she wasn't aware of, but to hear those things from someone closer to her age, and not her dad or uncle…

Steve was frowning slightly. "Hey, Christy? Look, if it means that much to you, I'll talk to Tasha about you starting up lessons with her again. Promise. But can you go…" he trailed off.

Christy got the message. "Sure, Dad. Thanks!" At that, she ran off to find Lila and Cooper.

"You sound pretty stressed, kid." Steve commented, sitting down across from Peter. "You been having a rough time of it?"

Peter gave a half-laugh. "Mr. Stark said I needed a vacation. Maybe he was right…" He looked up earnestly and said, fumbling over the words:

"W-what…I mean, y-you're the country's hero…"

"Thanks." Steve said dryly.

"I mean it! Even after everything, even when Ross was tryin' to say you were no good, nobody would buy it! People were graffiti-ing your shield all over the place in the city; every borough! And I saw stuff on the internet…but anyway, most regular people, they thought you were fine. But sometimes the news would say stuff, and people wrote articles…"

"I saw some of them." Steve said quietly. "Usually getting on me for refusing to sign the Accords. One called me a…'relic of the past, refusing to move forward in a modern age of cooperation'." He gave a small smile. "Sam threw a fit. Bucky threw a bigger one."

"Yeah, well, those people are stupid. But I wanna know…how do you deal with it? With bad press and people saying things that aren't true and, and the guys at school that think you're nothin'…"

Steve felt his heart clench up. It seemed like a million years ago, the days when it felt like his voice was worth nothing…

"First," he said slowly. "You have to remember that you're doing something that counts. Even when things blow up in your face…if you've done right by your conscience, then you've done right. It doesn't matter what the mob, or the press, or the politicians, or even your own peers have to say. You're taking risks that none of them are, fighting battles they know nothing about. Hold your head up high…and, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

Steve reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Remember that you're not in this alone. Even when you feel like it."

Peter let out a long, bone-weary sigh. In the end, that was what had been the worst—feeling like he was the only one, because he didn't really _see_ anyone else with powers on a regular basis.

"Can I just stay here, like, forever?" he murmured.

Steve laughed. "Sorry, kid. Don't think your parents would like it if we kidnapped you."

"I…I live with my aunt."

"Ah." Steve looked curious, but didn't press. "Fine. Same idea. I think she'll want you back, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"You go back…and you show the world what the Spider-Man can do." Steve smiled. "We've got your back. Even if I do feel a little concerned about a kid patrolling Queens at night…"

"I'm careful." Peter said. "And, you've seen me fight. I can get myself outta anywhere!"

"Just don't get cocky." Steve warned.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky called as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. "We're doing pizza roulette, pick a place."

"Aw, you know I never care; just put down two votes for whatever Christy wants." Steve said.

"Roger that, Rogers."

Steve groaned. "I swear, one of these days I will murder Clint…"

"Hey, I used to do that way before Hawk-boy."

"Yeah, but he revived it."

"What's pizza roulette?" Peter asked.

Bucky grinned. "If ya haven't figured it out, kid, there's kind of a lot of us, especially when we all join up like some crazy family reunion. If we order pizza, like we do sometimes, it's a big order, so we vote on which pizza place gets our huge order—and money. Clint's the one who thought up the name, mostly to mess with Natasha."

"Oh…okay." Peter's eyes dropped down to Bucky's arm and did a double take. "Did…did you get a new arm?"

"Yup." Bucky said shortly.

"What…happened to the other one?"

Bucky paused. "Lost it." he said quietly. "I like the new one better—doesn't stick out so much."

Peter nodded, not quite sure what to say, but not about to pry. "You got a haircut, too."

"Yeah…thought it might be nice not to look like the guy that bombed the UN." Bucky said honestly.

"Hey, I've _seen_ pics of the guy that bombed the UN. He looks _nothing_ like you." Peter suddenly looked shy. "Sorry I kinda webbed you up during the fight. Oh!" he turned to Steve. "Sorry I took your shield, too. I just was trying…"

"To impress Tony." Steve finished.

"Don't sweat it, kid." Bucky added. "Nobody's blamin' you for anything."

The tiny voice of worry that had been hiding in the back of Peter's mind at last shut up for good. These guys weren't mad at him for fighting on the "wrong side". This was _Steve Rogers_ and _Bucky Barnes_ , the living legends he'd heard about since childhood…

"Thanks." he said gratefully. "So, uh, Natasha told me some things. But…I still have some questions—if it's okay. About you guys, and the war, and what really happened…they teach us about Captain America and the Howling Commandos in History class, but…"

"History class?" Bucky rolled his eyes. "Shoot, kid, no wonder you got questions. Fire away."

Steve nodded and sat back. "Anything specific?"

"Well…"

* * *

"So, Mr. Spiderman, we finally meet."

Peter nearly choked on his bite of pizza as the guy half of the Maximoff twins (he was blanking on the name) slunk up behind him.

"Uh, yeah…what's your name, exactly?"

The man laughed and stuck out his hand. "Pietro Maximoff. Easy to remember—just another version of your name. Peter Parker, yes?"

"Yeah, that's me. Um…so you're an Avenger, right?"

"Yes, or so they tell me." Pietro sat down. "I can run. Fast. And my punches aren't bad. Apparently that qualifies me to hang around with these crazy people."

Peter nodded—though, if what he'd been told was true, Pietro could run more than just "fast". "So how come you weren't in Germany?"

Pietro's face clouded over. "Me? Ah…the truth? I wasn't needed."

"Who said?"

"Myself."

Peter wasn't quite sure what to say to that. "So you didn't agree with…everything?"

Pietro shrugged. "Depends on what you mean by 'everything'. The Accords? I hate them. Everyone fighting? I hate that, too. There were enough people involved, including my sister. So I took babysitting duty." His gaze strayed over to where Christy sat eating with Lila and Cooper.

"Oh, right…where was she, during everything?"

"Here. Safe. It was hard, but…she knows what Steve does. It doesn't shock her anymore. She just gets scared…she was adopted, you know. Her parents both died before she was eight years old. She worries…"

Peter nodded, thinking of how he would feel if Aunt May was consistently in danger. "I can sympathize."

"So Wanda went to fight…her powers are more impressive, anyway. But I almost wish I had gone…"

Peter winced. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't know anything about what they did with her, until Vision told me. I didn't…didn't think. I should have."

"Eh, you made a mistake." Pietro shrugged. "So you're human. Big deal. Get up, learn, move on." He gave a half-smile. "Works pretty good."

Christy walked up to the two of them, Lila and Cooper behind her like a small army. "Pietro? We wanna play manhunt."

Pietro grinned. "So play manhunt."

"With three people? No way! Wanda already said she'd do it." She looked at Peter. "You wanna play? Manhunt's fun—it's like tag and hide-n-seek got married."

Peter had to smile at the odd choice of description. "Uh…sure!"

"Okay! Powers or no powers?"

"That makes it too hard!" Cooper protested. "Pietro runs too fast."

"You didn't say that last time when he was on your team!" Lila argued.

Cooper looked sheepish. "Yeah, well…"

"We can do it like this." Wanda said, coming over. "Me and Mr. Spider on one team, Pietro on the other. That makes it almost fair."

"I don't really have my web shooters…" Peter said quietly.

Wanda frowned. "Can you still climb things? I saw you climbing, before."

"Yeah, I guess. And I still have good reflexes…"

"I call being on Pietro's team!" Lila said.

"I'll take a chance on Spider-boy." Christy said, smirking.

Cooper sighed. "Last, as usual. I pick Pietro."

"Last is best!" Pietro argued. "Besides, you plan good. Better than me."

"If you are going to play, please make sure to _go outside_ before starting." Laura called from the kitchen table, where she was comparing notes with Pepper on The Care and Feeding of Superheroes.

"Going!" Wanda called back. "Come on, let's go." she added, and the gang trooped outside.

* * *

Several hours later, tired but no longer exhausted, Peter once more climbed into the back of Tony's convertible. It had been a long, but wonderful, day.

Rhodey grinned over at him. "Wore out, kid?"

"Nah, not…" a yawn split his sentence in half. "…really."

"Uh _huh_ , I see. Well, looks like today was beneficial for all involved."

Peter nodded. He'd actually had a conversation with Captain America that wasn't fighting banter! And…a lot of other conversations that were pretty good, too.

"I sometimes feel so confused when I come here." Vision said, with all the experience of someone who had been to Avengers' Hill exactly twice now.

Tony scoffed as he got in the driver's seat. "Humans confuse you in general, Vizh."

"Yes, but _these_ humans...they are rather odd."

"I get'cha, Vizh." Peter said. "It's like a different world out here."

"That might be because you can actually see the stars for once." Pepper added, gesturing up at the expansive night sky. "And there's no traffic or loud noises."

"Maybe…" Peter mused. "But I still say it's like a different world." He thought of how casually former battles and missions had been discussed, of the carefree attitude displayed by most, of the almost secret code bandied about, discernible by all those who had shared the same experiences. It really gave off the impression of a hidden kingdom of sorts. Even the kids were in on it!

 _"_ _I'll write you a song! Then you'll be like Dad—he's the only one with a theme song, 'cause they made a Captain America TV show a long time ago. It was kinda bad…"_

"Spiderman, Spiderman; does whatever a spider can…" Peter sung under his breath.

Vision's sharp hearing picked up on the tune. "Did Christy actually write you a song?"

Peter gave an embarrassed grin. "Just the first line. She said if she thought of more, she'd sent it to me."

"I shall be awaiting this song's completion." Vision said, faintly amused.

"So, kid," Tony said, as they started to drive away, "Feelin' better? You look less like death warmed over."

"Uh, yeah, Mr. Stark, I am. I…" he trailed off. "I kinda don't wanna leave." he finished lamely.

"I know." Tony said, not unsympathetic. "But your amazingly attractive aunt would kill me if I didn't have you back by Sunday night."

"Tony!" Pepper scolded. "The woman has a _name_."

"Alright, alright; your _Aunt_ _May_ would kill me if I didn't have you back by Sunday night. 'Sides, I'm not gonna be facilitating you dropping out of high school. Don't worry, I can bring you back…"

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." Peter said, already feeling himself start to crash.

 _Man, you've gotten lazy! It'll be back to Spidey patrol come Monday…_

He still wasn't quite sure how he was going to juggle school, Spiderman, a social life, and a quasi-internship…but he would figure it out.

After all, he wasn't in this alone.

 _"_ _You go back…and you show the world what the Spider-Man can do."_

Peter smiled a little.

 _Orders acknowledged, Captain…_

 _Orders acknowledged._

* * *

 ***Sighs* Well, _that_ was a monster-long chapter. But I'm glad I wrote it; I had fun with Peter. (And with Tony being vaguely parental.)  
**

 **Tune in next time for ACTUAL Maximoff birthday/ "let's be tourists" chapter-complete with love, fun, and the tiniest amount of angst. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello all! I'm back! I started back at school between this chapter and the last, so my posting schedule will begin to reflect that, but the semester doesn't seem too crazy...yet.**

 **Here at last is the long-promised Maximoff Birthday Sightseeing chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Wanda closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the crisp, September air. The sun was setting, and the outside temperature was perfect fall weather—enough to need a coat, but not enough to feel the onset of hypothermia.

They had only been in the house for about three weeks, but it was already starting to feel like a home. Wanda's favorite spot to get away and think had quickly become the long, wraparound porch that faced down the hill. Set up with a few deck chairs and an outdoor table, it would be in constant use by next summer, but right now, it was peaceful and still.

For much of her life, she had been surrounded by people—in the orphanage, living in a crowded city, even in the HYDRA lab. And although she didn't _mind_ people, it was nice to have so much unoccupied space for once. The sky spread out over her like an inky blanket, covered in hundreds of shining pinpoints, and there was nothing but trees and open fields as far as she could see.

 _It's so beautiful…_

 _"_ _A dinar for what you're thinking?"_

Pietro's voice slid into her own mind so smoothly, that Wanda didn't even realize he had snuck up behind her.

"It's 'a penny for your thoughts'." she answered, grinning. "You know that one."

Pietro shrugged and sat down next to her. "Sam says pennies are almost useless. And you know I hate American slang."

As if to prove his point, he had slipped back into Sokovian. Both of them had learned decent English in Sokovia, but living in America and with native English speakers had vastly improved their vocabularies—to the point where they now spoke English even to each other. Still, it was nice to speak Sokovian at times. Neither of them wanted to forget their first language.

"You know what day is coming soon, right?" Wanda asked, switching over to the same language.

Pietro nodded. "Our birthday. And a month or so after that…"

They shared a knowing look.

September 23rd was their joint birthday. October 20 was the day their lives had changed forever, when their apartment was bombed and their parents killed.

" _Mama_ made us a cake, somehow." Wanda said. "I don't know where she got all the ingredients. And I got a necklace…" she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memory that loomed in her mind's eye.

"I don't remember what I got." Pietro whispered. "I guess I lost it…" he trailed off, and then seemed to shake himself. "They wouldn't want us to be unhappy. They wouldn't!"

"No, you're right." Wanda agreed. "And…it could be worse. I could be celebrating alone."

Pietro looked like he had been punched in the stomach.

They rarely discussed those dark hours after the last battle with Ultron. But there was no doubt that Pietro almost dying had knitted them together even more tightly than they already had been.

"I told you," he said, smoothing part of Wanda's hair behind her ear. "I'm never leaving you again. Not like that. And not on our birthday." He gave a cockeyed smile. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, little sister."

"I told you, I'm older now! And…you're not so bad to be stuck with." Wanda leaned over on her brother. "I love you."

Pietro smiled, a rare non-cocky smile. "Me, too." He sighed a little. "I do wish they could see us, though. See that we turned out okay and found people to be with."

Wanda nodded, thinking of each member of their makeshift family. "They would like all of them, I think."

There was silence for a little while, until Pietro said, "So, for our birthday…because you know they're going to ask…you want anything?"

Wanda stared up at the stars and twisted her lip in thought. "I was thinking. We live near New York City, but we didn't really get to go exploring. When we stayed in the Tower, there was more focus on getting you better, and then we moved to the base…"

"Wanna be a tourist?" Pietro asked, smirking.

"Just for a day. To see what, I don't know for sure. The others will have suggestions. But…Steve and Bucky tell so many stories. I wouldn't mind having visuals."

"I wouldn't mind that. I…would really like it, actually."

"I always wanted to see…I can't remember the name. The statue of the green lady…"

"Oh!" Pietro nodded vigorously. "That one. That's the one I feel like you have to see. You always see it in movies about America."

"It's called the Statue of Liberty." Came a sudden voice.

The siblings spun around to find that Bucky had snuck up behind them. He gave an apologetic grin. "Sorry. Thought you might wanna know…"

"You understand Sokovian?" Wanda asked, switching back to English for all their sakes.

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, apparently…I understood most of what you were saying. Can't speak it, though. I tried; the words wouldn't come out."

Pietro looked massively confused. "How…?"

"Better not to ask." Bucky said shortly. "Mostly 'cause I have no clue. Half the time, I don't even know I can speak or understand a language 'till I hear it." He grinned weakly. "But enough about my HYDRA-imparted language abilities. Why were you guys talking about the Statue?"

"Wanda wants to play tourist for our birthday." Pietro explained.

"Oh, yeah, that is soon!" Bucky cried, eyes lighting up. "What day?"

"September 23rd." Wanda said. "In about a week."

Bucky nodded, and a thinking gleam appeared in his eye. "Enough time to go shopping."

"Don't go crazy, please…" Wanda felt the need to protest. Since arriving in America, they had become more used to displays of excess, but she and Pietro both still had trouble accepting gifts.

Bucky smiled. "I'll get you both something you deserve. Maybe Steve and Sam and I can collaborate on something."

"Yeah, Steve has good taste." Pietro said, involuntarily fingering the watch that had been his "welcome to the Avengers" present.

Bucky snorted. "Any 'taste' he has, he gets from me. Or Natasha." He glanced at one of the empty deck chairs. "Mind if I sit? Or…was I interrupting something?"

"We were done with being depressing, I think." Pietro said, giving Wanda a confirming look. Wanda nodded.

"Depressing?" Bucky asked.

"Our…our parents' death was not long after our tenth birthday." Wanda explained.

Bucky's face turned immediately sympathetic. "You two hold onto each other pretty hard, then, don't you?" he muttered. "Especially for holidays."

"Yes." Pietro answered, uncharacteristically solemn. "We do."

"I get it." Bucky said, a fervent look appearing in his eye. "It's the same for me and Steve. We lost each other and everything else once, so like hell we'd let it happen again."

He bit his lip and stared off into space, no doubt remembering how it felt to be utterly bereft of everything familiar.

It was times like these that it really struck Wanda how _young_ Bucky was. True, he was still older than her by a number of years, but compared to Sam or Clint or even Tony, that gap didn't seem so wide. The haircut and shaved face also helped—Wanda had seen a few old photos, and if it wasn't for the modern clothing, she might be looking at Sergeant Barnes of the 107th, young and dreaming of the future.

 _"_ _Thirty-one…but who's counting at this point?"_

 _Who, indeed…_ Wanda thought, as an unexplainable feeling shot through her chest.

"So…" Pietro drawled. "Got any ideas for sightseeing?"

Bucky looked speculative. "Well, it kinda depends on what you wanna see. New York's a big city, after all…" He thought for a minute, and then added, "I think you two would like Coney. It's a little late in the season, but it shouldn't be too cold…"

"What's Coney?" Pietro asked.

"Coney Island." Bucky elaborated. "It's…kinda like Disney, but smaller. It's got rides and games and food…"

Pietro suddenly looked very interested. "Are the rides fast?"

Wanda rolled her eyes.

"Fast enough." Bucky said. He grinned. "There's this one called the Cyclone that Steve threw up on, back in the day. 'Course, back then, it didn't take too much to make him throw up. I think there's some more fast ones, but I'd have to look it up. And then there's Nathan's Famous, where anyone worth their salt gets hot dogs in New York…"

Pietro turned pleading eyes on his sister. "Wanda. _Wanda_. _Moja draga, slatka sestro…_ "

Wanda gave a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, yes, we can go to Coney Island, you terrible boy."

Pietro beamed.

"If you want somethin' more touristy, there's always Ellis Island." Bucky offered. "It's right near the Statue of Liberty. It's where immigrants used to come into the country back…well, they were still usin' it back in the 40's. I dunno when they stopped. But it's like a museum now, Sam said."

Wanda looked more interested at this (although the idea of Coney Island wasn't _unappealing_ ). "That might be nice."

"It'd be interesting to go there myself." Bucky said. "My parents came through there as kids, and Steve's parents did, too. Dunno if Christy knows her family history or not…"

"I'd like to go there." Wanda cut in. "Please. I like history."

Bucky nodded. "Okay. We can talk to the others. All those things should add up to a pretty full day."

Pietro gave a happy grin, clearly still lost in visions of Coney Island roller coasters. Wanda shot him her signature you-are-an-idiot look, but she couldn't keep the smile of her own face, either.

This was shaping up to be the best birthday they had celebrated in a long, long time.

* * *

Christy was in the middle of a covert spy operation.

Well…it wasn't really a _spy_ operation. But it was a covert one, considering she shared a room with the soon-to-be birthday girl.

 _What am I supposed to get for someone who never says what they want?!_

Christy's experience with gifts had been to never ask for or expect anything _too_ outrageous (like a lion cub), but always to at least _ask_. Or have a gift idea in mind, even if it was just a gift card. And, she liked giving gifts. So not having anywhere to even _start_ with gift ideas bothered her.

 _She never goes shopping, not really, Uncle Tony already got them both laptops last year…_

Her eyes drifted over to the corkboard that hung above Wanda's bed. It was covered with the few old pictures she still had from her childhood, as well as other, newer pictures and various hanging keepsakes.

Suddenly, Christy got an idea.

 _It's_ _ **perfect**_ _! Gonna have to ask Dad for help, 'cause I'm…_ _ **broke**_ _, but it's perfect! She'll love it, I'm sure!_

Wanda looked up to see Christy staring in her direction with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. "What are you up to, _mače_?"

Christy's smile got bigger. "Nothin'…"

Wanda narrowed her eyes, but Christy didn't budge. Shrugging, she gave up. Whatever Christy was so excited about, it would come out in time.

"I need to practice guitar, but I don't wanna do it alone." Christy added, unsubtly changing the subject. "Can you play with me?"

Wanda shoved her laptop to the side of her bed and reached for her guitar. "Fine. Not like I was doing anything important. What song?"

Christy screwed up her face, thinking, and then grabbed her guitar in a rush of excitement. Concentrating, she positioned her fingers into the 'C' chord and strummed down.

"I been tryin' to do it right…" she switched to F, then back to C, concentrating harder (F chords were her mortal enemy), "I been livin' the lonely life…I been sleepin' here instead…I been sleepin' in my bed…sleepin' in my bed…"

Wanda smiled. This was a song that Christy _loved_. She had first heard it the year she was adopted, and the theme of belonging had forever woven itself into the song for the girl.

She picked up at the next part. "So show me family…all the blood that I will bleed…I don't know where I belong…I don't know where I went wrong…but I can write a song…"

For the chorus, they were both strumming along, singing their hearts out.

"I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart…I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart…"

 _It's as simple as that…_ Wanda thought idly. _That's all family is… 'I belong with you'._

Looking across at Christy's happily-focused face, and thinking of everyone else in the house (and the one down the hill), Wanda couldn't dream of another group she'd rather say such a thing to.

 _I belong with you, you belong with me…_

* * *

"It's the twins' birthday this weekend."

Clint and Laura were seated at the kitchen table late at night, enjoying the rare moment of quiet that occurred when all three children were in bed.

Laura nodded at Clint's observation. "Yes?"

"I was wondering…you know what we talked about, a while back? Now might…be a good time to ask them."

"We talked about a lot of things a while back." Laura teased.

Clint gave a half-grin. "I suppose I deserved that one. But you know…"

"I do…you want to talk with them?"

"Well, yeah…" Clint ran his hand through his hair. "I don't wanna seem like I'm pushing in where I'm not wanted. They are adults, after all. They might not feel it's necessary."

"Oh, I think they would." Laura contradicted softly. "I think they very much would. Maybe not _necessary_ , but certainly desirable." She looked at Clint steadily. "Growing up doesn't make you feel any less of an orphan. I think you know that."

Clint breathed out a long sigh. "Yeah. I know it." After a long pause, he added, "You do realize this means we _actually_ need to expand the house."

Laura laughed and shook her head. "Do _you_ wanna hire a contractor, or shall I?"

"Contractor!" Clint sounded incensed. "Who needs a contractor? I can do it myself."

Laura looked decidedly unconvinced. "Trust me on this, honey. It just _might_ be a good idea."

Clint sulked for a few seconds before conceding. "Alright. Fine. I'll ask around in town. Or maybe just google someone."

" _Now_ you're thinking." Laura leaned over and gave Clint a kiss on the cheek. "I love you. It's not every man that would do this."

"Eh, it's not like it'll cost much to do…"

"Not that." Laura cut in. She sighed. "Two…enhanced juvenile delinquents—I know that's not fair, but it kinda fit, back then…"

Clint nodded. "It fit."

"They cause you and your team a giant headache, but the moment they realize they made a mistake and switch sides…you become Dad. It's not everybody who would do that."

Clint shrugged. "If not me, then who?" he asked quietly. "Somebody's gotta do it. Everybody always asks 'why me?' I say, why _not_ me. And look at you!" he added. "Kid, ex-assassin, lost puppy superhero, enhanced juvenile delinquent…they all get bedding and food and love, no questions asked. Who does _that_?"

"Because someone has to." Laura answered. "And if we don't do it…who will?"

Clint leaned over and repaid his wife's earlier kiss with a much more passionate one.

When at last they broke apart, she added, "I'm still not gonna let you expand the house on your own. I want a name within the next month, or so help me, I'll do it myself!"

* * *

On their birthday, Wanda and Pietro once again found themselves outside on the side porch. The only difference was that this time, they were _locked out_ of the house.

From inside came the various clangs and bangs of baking and last-minute present wrapping, mixed with loud voices and the occasional shriek (courtesy of Christy or Lila). They were having a small party with Clint's family before they would drive with Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Christy into the city. Tony had extended an offer to let them stay in Stark Tower that night, so they could get an early start on their sightseeing day tomorrow.

"It's freezing out here!" Pietro grumbled. "They didn't have to kick us out of the house! Even Laura wouldn't let us stay in."

Wanda rolled her eyes, considering that it was only mid-morning, and the sun was still shining brightly. "It's not that cold, you'll live. They're trying to surprise us."

"It's not working."

"They're making us cake!"

Pietro brightened a little bit. "Cake is good. I hope it's chocolate."

Personally, Wanda hoped it would be something besides chocolate (which she _liked_ , but not too much). But she wouldn't be caught dead complaining even if it was.

"Barton, I know how to use a mixer, back off!" Came Sam's exasperated voice through the wall. "Why do I always end up the one baking birthday cakes for you crazy people?!"

"Dad's was a pie…" Christy argued weakly.

Wanda smirked. She could practically picture Sam's death glare.

Finally, the door swung open. Cooper peeked his head out uncertainly. "Uh…you guys can come in, I think…? They're done arguing at each other."

Pietro laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't you know? Yelling sarcasm means love in Avenger-talk."

Cooper gave a half-smile. "I guess so."

Wanda followed the boys inside…and was greeted by a happy sight.

 _Two_ cakes, each differently and beautifully frosted, sat on the kitchen table, surrounded by a small amount of presents.

The image was enough to send a jab of painful happiness through Wanda's chest.

 _This is ridiculous!_ She thought impatiently, angrily swiping at the tears that leaked out of her eyes. _Getting your own cake is not a reason to cry!_

Pietro, normally well-armed with witty remarks for any situation, seemed unable to speak either.

Besides the fact that the cakes were made specifically for them (something they were both still getting used to)…

 _"_ _Everyone always called us 'the twins'…"_ Pietro sent, encapsulating everything.

Clint crossed his arms and grinned. "Well, you're easy. The two cakes were Sam and Bucky's idea."

Sam shrugged. "Figured you guys deserved to be recognized for individuals."

"Plus, more cake for the rest of us." Bucky added mischievously. "And Steve got to show off his art skills."

Steve rolled his eyes and smiled bashfully. "It was no trouble."

Pietro's cake was decorated with white and blue icing, and below the "Happy Birthday" was a black-icing silhouette of a running man.

Wanda's, on the other hand, had white and red icing, with red and silver firework-looking sparks scattered all over the cake's surface.

Clint's grin turned into more of a smirk as he said, "You know, it's kinda customary after you get a gift…"

"Clint!" Laura scolded, as Wanda and Pietro both cried, "Thank you!" at the same moment.

"So…can we eat the cake now?" Christy asked, fakely innocent.

Lila, eyes locked on the desserts, nodded eagerly. "I like cake."

Laura gave a knowing smile. "Especially at eleven-thirty in the morning."

"No, any time!"

Everybody laughed at that, and Steve began to cut the cakes into pieces.

"One chocolate, one spice cake." he explained.

Wanda gave a tiny hum of approval and flashed Steve a 'thank-you' smile as he handed her a piece.

It took a while, but after everyone was saturated with sugar, Sam tapped one of the wrapped parcels. "These things are kinda meant to be opened."

"This one's Wanda's!" Christy said, grabbing a small present wrapped in red. "It's from me! And kinda Dad and Uncle Bucky."

"'Kinda'?!" Steve joked indignantly. "Who paid for it?"

"And who helped pay for it?" Bucky added.

"Exactly! I thought of it, and you guys paid for it! That's collaboration!"

Steve shrugged. "Can't really argue with that logic. Go 'head and open it, Wanda."

Almost blushing, Wanda gently tore open the slick wrapping paper, which revealed an equally slick box underneath.

"A camera?" she whispered.

"That was my idea!" Christy practically exploded. "See, I didn't know what to get you, because you wouldn't give me any ideas, and then I was looking at the board over your bed…"

"Happy Birthday." Steve added, cutting off Christy's tide of words.

Wanda couldn't stop staring at the box. Photography had always been a secret interest of hers, one she'd never had the chance to act on due to lack of funds. But now…

"Thank you." she whispered, giving Steve and Bucky crushing hugs and pulling Christy up against her side. "It's perfect."

"Alright, Speedy." Clint said, picking up a silver-wrapped package. "This one's your knockout gift."

Pietro tore off the paper a lot more hurriedly than his sister, but his reaction was much the same as hers. "A-an ipod? F-for me?"

"Any other new twenty-two year olds around here?" Clint teased.

Laura gave Pietro a hug. "Happy birthday, sweetheart. And you too, honey." She added, giving Wanda the same "mom hug" she was so famed for.

"You like music." Cooper said to Pietro. "And Christy thought of Wanda's present, so we had to think of something. It's not that creative, but…"

"No, no." Pietro grabbed the boy into a half-hug, half-headlock. "I love it. Promise."

 _I love a lot about all this…and it's not just the ipod._

Lila flung her arms around his free side. "I put Disney music on it."

Pietro ducked his head and smothered a laugh. Disney songs were probably his worst-kept guilty pleasure.

 _I can't help it if the music's catchy! It's all Christy's fault anyway!_

There were a few other gifts, mainly clothes and gift cards, along with two checks that Clint pressed into two sets of hands with a steely-eyed look that indicated he wasn't taking no for an answer.

All in all, both twins decided that their birthday weekend was off to a spectacular start. Things could only get better from here.

(They weren't aware _how much_ better, though.)

* * *

September 24th dawned bright and sunny, perfect weather for sightseeing. The gang of six had made their way out of Stark Tower around eight that morning, and after the subway commute from Manhattan to Brooklyn, they got onto the ferry.

Wanda was snapping pictures right and left, loving her new camera, and Pietro had his headphones jammed into his ears as he tested out his ipod.

Thankfully, the summer tourist crowds had thinned out a little, so there was enough room on the top deck to stand and watch as the Statue came into view.

"So pretty…" Wanda said, lining up the camera with deliberate precision. "Did they paint it?"

Steve laughed a little. "Nah, it's made out of copper. When copper gets exposed to the air for too long, it has a chemical reaction that makes the color change. Sorta like how iron rusts and gets more red-orangish."

Bucky grinned. "'Red-orangish'? Artist alert!"

"Well it is!" Steve huffed.

"So wait, the Statue of Liberty used to be _brown_?" Christy asked, frowning at the thought. "That's not very…well, I guess copper is shiny."

"It's also good building material." Sam added. "The Statue's over a hundred years old, and it still looks pretty good. I know they did some renovation in the seventies, but it's not like they had to replace the whole skin or anything. Copper holds up well."

"Skin?" Pietro blinked back to reality.

"There's a frame underneath the smooth part—the skin." Steve explained. "You'll see the nails when we get close."

After dis-embarking from the ferry, they made their way over to pick up the audio-tour devices, and began making their way around the base of the statue. Unfortunately, they hadn't made a reservation to climb up inside the statue, but the view from the ground was still extremely impressive.

Between listening to the audio tour sections, they took all the obligatory pictures in front of the Statue with Wanda's camera, including one of the birthday twins.

As they got ready to head over to Ellis Island, Pietro asked Wanda, "So, was this as good as you hoped it would be?"

Wanda nodded. "It makes me think…so many people come here—to the statue and to this country—from so many places. And now us. 'Give me your poor…'" she quoted softly, from the poem that had been read on the recorded tour.

"Space and freedom and room to start over…aside from the part where the Secretary of State declared you a menace to society, I like this country!" Pietro said.

Wanda laughed. "Well, when you put it like that...and I don't suppose Secretary Ross was in keeping with the ideals of his own country."

"You're darn right he wasn't." Bucky muttered, standing behind them in the ferry boarding line.

"This country was supposed to be a place where anyone could come and live in peace…make a life for themselves and their family." Steve said quietly. "It's supposed to be an example of freedom and human rights and 'liberty and justice for all'. And we don't always get it right…a lot of times we don't get it right. But we try." He shook his head. "By God, do we try."

"Hey, if everyone tried as hard as you, we'd be in a lot better shape." Sam said.

Pietro grinned. "Guess that's why he's _Captain America_." he said, voice pitched low.

Christy grabbed her dad's arm proudly and said, "Yup!"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite keep the grin off his face.

* * *

"So…this is where we would have come." Wanda said, as Ellis Island came into view.

"Until 1954." Steve said. "That's when it was shut down. Now I guess most people come in through airports."

"Your parents came here?" Pietro asked.

"Yup, 1903."

Pietro stared at Steve for a minute and then shook his head. "That's still weird." he said fervently.

"Yeah, yeah; he's older than he looks." Bucky joked.

"Ma always said she was glad they immigrated before I was born. I…I honestly don't think they would have let me into the country."

"Why not?" Christy asked. "Because you were so sick all the time?"

"Yeah, mostly that, baby. I mean, I was pretty tiny and weak even as a little kid. I had every illness on the books."

"There's something distinctly ironic about the fact that U.S. regulations would have kept Captain America out of America." Sam muttered.

They got off the ferry and walked up the stone steps into the massive building.

 _"_ _Imagine coming here."_ Wanda sent to Pietro. _"_ _Tired, scared, don't know English…and you go into a giant building that looks like a palace. I would have been scared."_

 _"_ _I would have been happy to be off a ship."_ Pietro sent back.

Wanda rolled her eyes. _"Yes, you would have…"_

After collecting audio tours, they started the tour through all the rooms and exhibits. Many of the areas were kept similar to how they had been when the island was still in use, especially the Great Hall.

"Oh, yeah, Dad always said this place was crazy!" Bucky said, glancing up at the high, arched ceilings covered in ivory tiles. "You got herded up here and had to sit on the benches 'till the official called your name. Ma said she was worried she wouldn't hear it over the noise. I mean, it was _packed_ , and everyone speaking every language under the sun…"

"Screw the audio tour, I'mma just listen to you and Steve." Sam joked.

"Maybe they should record their own tour." Wanda mused.

The displays and information in the rooms were all fascinating, and everyone, even Pietro (who got bored easily), found themselves engrossed.

"So, yeah, they never woulda let you into the country." Sam said to Steve, gesturing at the image of all the chalk letters used to mark those suspected of disease. "Which is an absolute crying shame…but I can see why the evaluated people for illness."

"Every system has flaws." Steve said, shaking his head. "It's our job to correct the flaws and figure out solutions as best we can."

It was in the room discussing the mental tests given to some immigrants that made Christy lose it.

"They made them draw a _diamond_ when they'd never held a _pencil_?" she cried. "What idiot thought that was a good idea? There's more ways to be smart than what you know from school!"

"They would have never let Pietro into the country. He clearly has something wrong with his head." Wanda said, keeping a poker face.

Pietro glowered at her. "Not funny!" he protested, but he softened as Christy laughed and looked less stressed over a past event she couldn't correct.

After going through all of the exhibit rooms, and checking out one special display of keepsakes brought by immigrants to America, they headed back outside to start the trip back to the mainland.

"You two having fun?" Steve asked the twins.

They both nodded. "I liked the exhibits." Pietro admitted. "And I was thinking…we had it pretty easy, coming here. And good people to help us out." He glanced down shyly. "Thank you. You guys are what made me like it here."

"Yes, thank you." Wanda added. "If I had to leave home…I don't think I could have picked a better place to come."

"You're welcome." Sam said, giving a wry grin. "It's not perfect here…but, like the old man said, we do try."

* * *

"So…this is the ride you threw up on."

The sentence was perfectly factual, but there was an underlying hint of incredulousness in the way it was spoken.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, that's right, baby."

Christy glanced up at the white, twisting rails of the Cyclone with a skeptical air.

"What's with the face?" Steve protested.

"Nothing! It's just…I mean, it looks fast enough and pretty curvy, but…"

"I think I'm siding with the kid, Steve." Pietro chimed in. "This doesn't look so bad."

Bucky just smirked.

Steve gave another, highly exasperated, sigh. "Keep in mind that I didn't exactly ride a lot of roller coasters, and that I'd recently gotten over being sick as a dog!" He shot Bucky a glare.

"Wasn't that half your life anyway, Rogers?" Sam ribbed.

"I hope you have better luck this time." Wanda said, perfectly innocent. Her face betrayed her amusement, though.

Steve rolled his eyes. "'C'mon punk, let's go ta Coney this weekend!'" he mimicked in a high, whiny tone. "'C'mon, this one won't be so bad! It'll be _fun_. You're not really sick anymore!'"

"I did not sound like a five-year old girl!" Bucky protested, as they swiped their Luna Pass cards and got into the cars.

The ride was uneventful in that no one got sick, but it was a perfectly enjoyable roller coaster, especially considering its age.

After establishing that Steve had a much higher ability to control his stomach than eighty-odd years ago, they headed around Luna Park, where the rides were, looking for all the coasters designated "extreme thrill". The Thunderbolt, with its fast speed, sharp turns, and upside-down flips quickly became Pietro's new favorite.

After exhausting all of the higher-speed rides, the group walked back up to the giant Nathan's Famous restaurant and bought enough hot dogs, fries, and drinks to keep the place in business for a day or so.

"I love this place!" Pietro said, polishing off a third hot dog.

Steve grinned. "Good birthday, huh?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "I like something that moves as fast as I do."

"That's one satisfied birthday-ee, can we get another?" Bucky asked, fake announcer style.

Wanda laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes; I'm having fun! We need to come back here, maybe with Clint and his family."

They finished eating and capped off the day with a ride on the Ferris Wheel, and then began the long trek up to the subway station, and back to Manhattan. But not before getting gelato and hurriedly eating it before getting on said subway.

In the end, both twins agreed that they couldn't had asked for a better birthday. But a surprise was waiting for them at home.

* * *

A few days after their birthday weekend, Wanda and Pietro sat in the Barton's living room across from Clint and Laura.

"You may wonder why I've called you two here…" Clint drawled.

Pietro rolled his eyes. "You are not Sherlock Holmes, Old Man! Stop keeping us in suspense!"

Wanda gave her brother a rap on the shoulder. _"Act your age!"_

Laura just smiled and said, "We had something that we wanted to discuss with you guys. It was actually Clint's idea."

Clint cleared his throat. "Look." he said, now completely serious. "We joke around about the Avengers being a family. And honestly, it's not really a joke. And you two…you've joke-called me and Laura 'mom and dad' more than once…what if it wasn't a joke?"

It took a minute for the statement to process through the twins' heads. And another minute to grasp what Clint was asking.

"You…you don't…" Wanda's eyes were huge.

"How would you feel if we legally adopted you two?" Clint asked softly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"It…it wouldn't mean anything crazy." Clint continued. "I don't even think you'd have to change your last name if you didn't want to…"

"You want _us_?" Pietro questioned, half-dazed. "No, I mean…of course you want Wanda. But me? I can't stop talking! I say stupid things and act so disrespectful…"

"Hey." Laura cut him off. "We want _you._ And Wanda. Both of you."

 _We want you…_

Wanda couldn't explain the complicated feeling those words produced in her. Hope and joy and sadness and guilt and unworthiness all mixed together in a potent mass that threatened to create tears.

"Why?" she choked out at last.

Clint gave a soft smile. "'Cause why not? 'Cause we want you two. 'Cause not belonging to a family sucks and I don't want anyone to have to suffer what I did for so long. And 'cause we love you."

"I…I shoot red energy out of my hands. The government thinks I'm a threat. I-I-I'm dangerous sometimes and…"

Clint stopped her. "I fought an army of robots with a bow and arrow, and got brainwashed by alien magic before. Welcome to the home where everyone's a little bit broken. You'll fit right in."

Wanda couldn't speak for a moment, she was so overcome with emotion.

"Where were you guys when we were ten?" Pietro asked. The sentence started as a joke, but his voice cracked hard with emotion by the end of it.

 _Where were you when no one else wanted us?_

Clint sighed. "We're here now, kid. And maybe it's too late. But…we're here now."

Pietro's expression, normally so happy and cocky, crumpled up and tears leaked out of his eyes.

"I don't know what this is gonna look like…" Clint warned. "But I do know it's something I want."

"And me." Laura echoed. "You two are practically part of the family already. We might as well make it official."

 _Part of the family…make it official…_

 _"_ _What are you thinking?"_ Wanda sent quietly.

 _"_ _I_ _ **can't**_ _think!"_ Pietro's mind felt as wild and chaotic as hers. _"_ _Adopt? Adopt_ _ **us**_ _? Nobody…nobody ever asked us that."_

 _"_ _Well they're asking_ _ **now**_ _! So, what? Say yes?"_

 _"_ _You wanna say_ _ **no**_ _?"_

 _"_ _No…"_

"If you want time to think it over, that's perfectly alright." Laura started. "We're not saying you have to make any kind of a decision today…"

"M-mom…" Pietro cut in, the word thin and wobbly on his tongue. "The answer's yes." he finished, eyes squeezed shut.

Laura immediately smothered him in a hug.

"Wanda?" Clint looked at her, his hazel eyes full of the same calmness and care as that one day so long ago…

 _Doesn't matter what you did, or what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. Stay in here, you're good, I'll send your brother to come find you. But if you step out that door…you_ _ **are**_ _an Avenger._

That day, his words had invoked a sense of new beginnings. Now, the same feeling permeated the air.

She gave him a weak smile. "Wanda Maximoff Barton sounds pretty good."

Clint smiled and almost tackled her in a hug.

"Lila's gonna be so stoked to have a big sister, ya know." he confided. "And Cooper and Nate…well, they all love both you guys. This…none of this is normal. 'The city is flying and we're fighting an army of robots…and I have a bow and arrow.'"

Wanda laughed. "A bow and arrow is better than nothing."

"Especially your bow and arrows." Pietro chimed in, recovering some of his normal good humor.

"And love is better than it all." Laura added.

It was September 25th, 2016.

Almost twelve years ago, the Maximoff twins had lost their family.

Now, after years of despair, hopelessness, lonely nights, and empty places that had never been filled…they found it again.

 _Best birthday ever…_

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed my blood, sweat and tears. Literally, tears. I've seen too many documentaries on the dismal state of Eastern European orphanages not to tear up at the thought of the twins getting officially adopted.**

 **I also recently went to New York, and went to all the places described. I highly recommend them all. Any facts mentioned are correct.**

 ** _"Moja draga, slatka sestro…": "My dear, sweet sister"  
_**

 **A dinar is Serbian currency, so the American equivalent to what Pietro says would be something like "A dollar for your thoughts".  
**

 **The song Christy and Wanda play is "Hey, Ho" by the Lumineers. I love the song, it's super catchy, and the lyics, while ambiguous, do have an over-arching theme of belonging. Perfect for Christy and perfect for the chapter.  
**

 **Tune in next time (whenever that may be) for Steve and Sharon's first official date! And, I have no good ideas, so if you do, don't hesitate to share. Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hola, Hallo, Privet, _I'm back_! I was held hostage by the triple daggers of homework, exhaustion, and sickness, but I'm back!**

 **I'd like to acknowledge my amazing new guest reviewer who left me not one but TWO awesome reviews. Whoever you are, thank you so much! I'm glad my ChristyVerse has made your year!**

 **As a note, because it was brought up in the review: some authors on this site may hold back chapters to build suspense or get more feedback, etc. I am NOT one of those people. I have an outline that I work off of, but I write one chapter at a time, so if a chapter isn't up, it's because it ain't finished yet! When I'm done, I edit a little and then I post. I'm too much of a feedback junkie to hold back ;)**

 **Also, I am not at all sorry for the copious amount of "Hamilton" references that got into this chapter. NOT AT ALL. That musical has taken over my life, even though God knows it'll be a long time before I can see it live! But I love the music.**

 **Anyway, enough rambling. On with the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Getting ready for your first official date in seventy-five years would be stressful under any circumstances.

Unfortunately for Steve, this situation was not aided _at all_ by the fact that Bucky and Sam were prowling outside his bedroom door, offering "advice".

"Make sure to spray on the cologne! Ladies like cologne!"

"But not too much, ya don't wanna give her a coughing fit!"

"And remember to smile, you're supposed to be having fun!"

"But not too much, or it'll look unnatural!"

Ever since Sharon had called, saying that she was in New York City for CIA business and asking if Steve was free that weekend, Steve had been making arrangements and stressing like a madman. Tony had extended another offer to let Steve use his old floor in Stark Tower ("anything to help the Capsicle thaw out"), so that took care of lodging, but everything else had required planning. And lots of Steve occasionally staring off into space with a soft, secretive grin.

Wanda looked over from where she was seated at the kitchen table. "I don't believe that either of you are helping. And he still has a four-hour drive to the city, he doesn't need to be… _freaking out_."

Bucky grinned. "Good slang use." He leaned back against the wall. "Aw, I know what ya mean, but this is the first date I've seen him go on that wasn't one I had to set up."

Sam frowned. "Look, I know you two joke, but was it really that…?"

"Yes, it really was that bad. He had terrible luck with dates."

"All because he was small and sickly?" Wanda asked, looking mildly incensed.

Bucky sighed. "Ah, I dunno if that was really his biggest drawback. I guess…he's too _earnest_. Too serious. And the dames I'd find for blind dates mostly just wanted a good time. I mean, there was a war on! Everybody was looking for a distraction, and here was a guy that could talk your ear off about the benefit of buying war bonds! Not kidding, he actually did that one time…"

Sam shook his head. "He would. And I can see why that would be a sort of drawback. But it's exactly why Sharon's so good for him. She…appreciates the seriousness."

"And the honesty." Wanda offered. "And he's actually a gentleman. Unlike some people."

Both men made loud sounds of protest.

"I'm a gentleman!" Bucky said, getting slightly red-faced with embarrassment. Sam caught the flash of color and narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment.

Romantic feelings generally sorted themselves out in their own good time. And part of being a wingman was knowing when to give a nudge, and when to hold your peace.

For now, he would hold his peace.

Wanda softened. " _You_ are a sarcastic, bleeding-heart _punk_ and I wouldn't have you any other way." She looked at Sam. "And you are too good for all of us."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And _you_ are all a bunch of self-effacing idiots."

"Am I included in that group?" Steve asked, coming out from his room with a garment bag over his shoulder. His hair was slicked flat with water and his eyes were bright with excitement and nervousness.

"You're in the top spot." Sam muttered, giving the other man a once-over. "But you look pretty good right now. Sharon might actually not run away screaming."

Steve laughed, but the sound was false and hollow, so Sam immediately dropped the sarcasm. "Seriously, man, you'll be fine."

"Yeah, punk, she actually likes you." Bucky said. "All 'a you. It'll be fine."

Wanda grinned. "Take it from me, you could impress any girl right now. If you put on nice clothes, even better."

Steve's lips quirked up. "Only gotta worry about impressing one." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair on reflex, messing up all his hard work from earlier. "I should head out. Christy?" he called up the stairs.

"Comin'!" Christy called back. Running footsteps sounded down the stairs, and Christy tumbled into the living room a second later. "Ooh, you look good, Dad! And you don't even have on nice clothes yet."

Steve gave an actual smile at that. "Thanks, baby."

Christy hugged him. "Don't worry, it's _Sharon_. She's actually _nice_ and she likes _Lord of the Rings_ and she sat through me explaining how everyone in the Avengers is sort of related but not really…anyway, you'll be fine. Really fine. Call me tonight!"

"And me." Bucky said, his tone a mix of joking and serious. "You're just lucky I didn't borrow a spy camera from Tasha."

"Duly acknowledged." Steve said dryly. He looked at Wanda. "Are Clint and Laura still takin' you and Pietro into town later to sign the papers?"

Wanda nodded, flushing a bit.

"Leaving us with three kids extra." Sam said. He tried to sound put-out, but couldn't quite manage. The Barton kids were no real trouble.

Usually…

"Well, congratulations in advance." Steve said to Wanda sincerely. "As for you two…good luck."

" _Thanks_." Bucky drawled. "Now go see your girl, already."

"Alright, alright, I'm headed out!" Steve said, opening the front door. "See you guys later!"

The door closed.

"Five bucks says he tosses his cookies before he hits the city limits." Bucky said, deadpan.

Sam grinned. "I'll take that bet. Mostly 'cause I don't think he will."

Wanda rolled her eyes. " _Boys_."

* * *

New York City traffic was terrible. Especially in Manhattan.

Steve was beyond glad that he hadn't changed into his nice clothes before the drive. And that Tony was letting him use the Tower as a place to crash.

Now, though, he was neatly dressed, brushed, and smelling like cologne (but not too much—he hoped), standing in front of the Tower, where he'd promised to meet Sharon.

The whole set-up still felt like a dream.

 _"_ _Steve? I'm in New York, the city I mean. I had some work to do, but I'm free this weekend…"_

His heart hammered away in his chest like a drunk drummer and his whole body felt like a coiled spring, wound and tight.

 _Well, it's just now October. I guess two months ahead of the 'last case scenario' is better than nothing…_

 _I hope she likes the restaurant. I hope I don't act like an idiot. I hope…_

"Steve?"

Steve spun around _fast_ , and very ungracefully, and found himself face-to-face with a mildly amused Sharon Carter.

"I come in peace?" she offered.

"Hey…" Steve said, trailing off in a breathless murmur. "You look fantastic."

Sharon blushed. "I haven't even changed yet…" She gestured down at the bag slung across her shoulder. "I was hoping I could do that here…?"

"Oh, right, o-of course." Steve moved to hold the door open for Sharon…only to forget that the front entrance was a revolving door.

His face turned a shade comparable to a tomato.

"Hey…" Sharon touched his shoulder lightly. "Easy. It's only been two minutes. I don't bite."

Steve took a deep breath. "I know…here, you go first."

Once inside the building, the pair got on the elevator up to Steve's old floor.

"So, how's everything at _Casa de los Avengers_?" Sharon asked lightly.

Steve grinned. "Pretty good. Except for the part where my two best friends were betting on whether I'd puke on the drive down."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Did you?"

" _No_." Steve said, rolling his eyes back. "So Bucky better pay up. Just 'cause the jerk never saw me on a decent date doesn't mean I can't get one!"

"Obviously." Sharon replied. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Steve took a nervous breath. "Yeah…you are."

The elevator pinged open onto Steve's floor, and they got out. "The bathroom's back there." Steve said, pointing awkwardly back and down the hall.

"Great." Sharon said. "I won't take long, I promise."

"Don't worry, the reservation's not 'till seven…we got plenty of time."

Sharon locked the bathroom door and quickly drew out her phone. _I have arrived_ , she texted.

Natasha's reply was within a minute: _Isn't he cute when he's nervous?_

Sharon grinned as she pulled on her dress. _Yes, but I hope he'll calm down. I just want a good night._

 _You set the tone._ Natasha texted back. _He's got twenty voices in the back of his head saying he's a screw-up and a failure. Your job is to be louder than those twenty voices._

 _Well, I always did like challenges._

Sharon could picture Natasha's smirk as she read the woman's reply: _I know. That's why I'm actively encouraging this. Call me your personal shipper on deck._

 _How do you know internet slang?_

 _I have a variety of talents…_

 _I can tell…_

Finishing the last of her makeup, Sharon took a final look in the mirror and ran a brush through her hair for the one millionth time.

 _I can do this. I can do this…_

Maybe Steve wasn't the only one who was nervous. But Natasha was right. She had to set the tone.

 _The trick of spies everywhere: act confident and confidence will eventually show up…_

She exited the bathroom and came out into the living area. Steve was seated on the couch, messing with something on his phone.

"I see it didn't take very long to make a 21st century man out of you." she joked.

Steve looked up with a little smile on his face. "Just texting the guys to let them know I made it into the city alright…" he trailed off as he took in Sharon's dress. "Wow…"

Sharon ran her hand down the skirt. The dress was a shiny silver number that clung to her figure and came just about knee-length. It was her favorite, and it never failed to make her feel attractive.

Apparently Steve shared her opinion.

"Well, you're no slouch yourself, tonight." she added, gesturing to his royal blue button-up and dark slacks. "Should we go?"

Steve stood up. "Y-yeah. Let's."

* * *

The subway down into Brooklyn was a little bit loud—but not _that_ loud. Yet Steve was sure he couldn't be hearing Sharon correctly.

"So, let me get this straight…there's a Broadway musical about the first treasury secretary…and it's all done with hip-hop music?"

Sharon laughed. "I know, it sounds incredibly weird, but it actually works. The writer's a genius and apparently everyone in it acts and sings really well. Unfortunately, it's so popular that tickets are sold out until next year."

Steve raised his eyebrow. "It's _that_ popular?"

"Extremely."

"Huh." Steve bit his lip, mulling that over. "I wonder if Christy would like it."

"She likes music, right? I got that much."

"Music and history and theater…and psychology. I blame Sam for the last one. She wants to be a trauma counselor when she's older. Or an Avenger. She's not sure which."

Sharon laughed at Steve's wry tone. "Well, she's got time to figure that out. But if she likes theater, have you taken her to any Broadway shows?"

Steve nodded. "I took to her to see Wicked for her adoption day anniversary last year. And she's seen some of the movie versions of plays…mostly because of me trying to catch up."

"Oh, Wicked's great! Let me guess, she ran around singing _Defying Gravity_ for about a week afterwards."

"Two weeks. On and off." Steve tried to sound disgruntled, but he couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"You really love her, don't you?" Sharon said quietly, taking his hand.

Steve jerked slightly at the sudden contact, but didn't pull away. "She's my baby. First reason I had for really living, after I woke up."

Sharon nodded. "Then I'm glad she likes me. It would have been terrible otherwise."

"Introduce her to this Hamilton play, and I think she'll like you even more." Steve replied.

The subway screeched to a halt at the right stop, and they got off, climbing out of the humid tunnel and into the cooling air of the city.

"Well, ah…" Steve checked his phone. "We've got some time until our dinner reservation, and it's not far from here. Wanna…"

"Actually…there's this place I wanted to check out, while we were in Brooklyn." Sharon said. "I've got the address; it's this little park...looked like a nice place to sit and talk."

"Sure!" Steve replied. "How close is it?"

"Oh…a few blocks up that way."

In hindsight, Steve realized he should have picked up on Sharon's deliberate vagueness. But he was on one of the first successful dates of his life, so perhaps he could be forgiven.

Either way, it didn't take him long to assess his surroundings, once they reached an older part of the city. He'd been here once before, with Bucky and Christy.

And other times before that…

"Wait…" he muttered, remembering a morning long ago. "I know this neighborhood. I got beat up in that alley. And in that parking lot. And behind that diner…dumpster." he amended, considering there wasn't a diner around.

Sharon cocked an eyebrow. "I highly doubt that dumpster dates back to the forties. And Aunt Peggy told me that story. To which I echo her question: did you have something against running away?"

Steve just gave a tiny grin. "I guess I did. Still do. If you always run away, they'll never let you stop. And you'll never get anything done."

But he almost lost any grudge he had against _running away_ when he saw what was in the park Sharon had mentioned.

"Oh, no…" he half-whispered, upon seeing the statue.

It was tall and bronze—very well-made.

And it was of _him_.

"'To our hometown hero, the Boy from Brooklyn. Your city will never forget you.'" Sharon read off the placard. "Circa 1948…they made this right after the war." She gazed up at the statue and gave a critical nod. "I think they captured your essence pretty well."

"It's so big…" Steve trailed off bashfully.

"So are you." Sharon argued.

"Well, couldn't they have done something a little…smaller?" Steve shook his head. "And I'm not exactly dead anymore. They…they should take it down."

Sharon grabbed his hand. "They should raise it higher."

Steve just sighed, and made himself look up at his towering likeness.

 _I'm not worth all of this…this adoration, this_ _ **loyalty**_ _._

 _You never think you're worth it_ , argued a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bucky's.

They stood in silence for a moment, until Sharon broke it.

"Admit it, you want a picture." she said, grinning.

"Nah…" Steve said, looking down,

"Not even for Christy?"

There was a brief pause.

Steve groaned. "Fine. For _Christy_." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"I'll tell the boys to play nice."

"I…don't take this the wrong way, but I doubt they'll listen to you."

Sharon grinned harder, slightly feral. "Then I'll call in a favor from Natasha. How's that?"

Steve couldn't help but return the smile. "Perfect. Even Bucky won't cross Natasha."

"With good reason…" Sharon muttered. "Anyone with half a brain would know that crossing Natasha is a bad idea."

Steve gave another long sigh. "Wanna take the picture?"

"I would be honored. Now stand under it and try to smile…"

After getting about five shots on her phone, Sharon finally let Steve back away from the statue.

"I guess they did capture me pretty well…" he said, giving one final glance up. "And…it's kind of nice, to know I was remembered."

 _You don't know the half of it…_ Sharon thought, remembering all the stories of her childhood. _There was no way in hell that anyone who knew you was gonna let your story die._

* * *

"Seven." Cooper said, looking at the dice. He picked up his game piece and moved it the required number of spaces, counting as he went. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven."

"St. James place." Christy said. "Nobody owns it."

Cooper looked down at his pile of fake money with a solemn air. "I'll take it." he announced finally.

"One-eighty." said Sam, who was banker. He glanced at Bucky. "You never said you were a saint."

Bucky rolled his eyes at the corny joke. "Ha-ha; you're hilarious, Wilson. Class act."

Bucky, Sam, and Christy were down at the Barton' house with the kids while Clint and Laura had taken the twins into town, to finalize some legal paperwork. If all went well (as it should) Pietro and Wanda would soon be full-fledged members of the Barton clan.

Lila glanced at her own property cards. "Hey, I got a purple one, too! Wanna trade?"

"That only works if you have something I want." Cooper said. "And you don't."

Lila pouted. "But that's not fair!"

"So 'fair' now means 'I get what I want all the time'?" Bucky countered. "It's just a game, doll. If you want a monopoly, wait for the right opportunity and then make your own."

"What does that mean?"

"It means get something Cooper wants and then trade for it." Christy elaborated. "Or make your own monopoly with other cards."

"Oh." Lila looked down at her cards again. "I got a railroad."

"And I have Boardwalk." Christy said, the tiniest amount of bragging seeping into her tone.

Just then, Sam's phone started ringing the Skype call. Nathaniel, sitting in his playpen a few feet away, began to fuss at the sudden noise, so Bucky went and brought him over to the kitchen table.

"That'll be Clint…" Sam muttered, pressing the 'talk' button. Sure enough, Clint's grinning face appeared in the camera.

"Hey, Sam. The kids there?"

"Nah, they ran off." Sam joked, as he turned the screen around to face everyone else.

"Li? Cooper? Nate?"

Nathaniel looked confused, hearing Daddy say his name when Daddy wasn't there. He still hadn't quite figured out Skype.

"Yeah, Dad?" Cooper replied.

Clint's smile got even bigger as he produced two official-looking documents. "You guys got a sister and a brother!"

Chaos erupted as Cooper let out a cheer, Lila shrieked, Christy yelled, "Yes!" and Nathaniel (still confused) joined in with his own cries. Sam and Bucky just grinned at each other.

"On this day…" Clint said, announcer-style. "Clinton and Laura Barton have _officially_ adopted Wanda and Pietro Maximoff-Barton to be their own!"

He panned the phone camera around to show the twins and Laura, who were seated in the shotgun seat and back of the car. Laura looked proud, Pietro looked a little sheepish, and Wanda's face looked like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

"Congrats, you guys." Bucky said. "Couldn't happen to anyone better."

"I second that." Sam added. "You guys comin' back now?"

"Well…we were thinkin' we'd go somewhere for dinner, to celebrate." Clint drawled. "All you guys are invited, of course. If you can squeeze in the car."

"We'll make it work." Sam said, as a loud round of cheers started up.

"Cooper, Lila, help make sure Nathaniel gets in the extra car seat all right." Laura cautioned. "It's in my car…"

"I know, Mom." Cooper assured. "I'll make sure he's okay."

"Good. See you guys soon."

"I'll text you where we're eating." Clint said to Sam, who nodded in acknowledgement.

As the call ended, Clint slid his phone back into his pocket and looked over at the twins— _his_ twins. "Still in shock?"

They glanced at each other. "Little bit." Pietro murmured.

"Sort of just happy." Wanda said. "I cannot believe we made the judge almost cry."

"You two almost made _me_ cry." Laura countered. "And by tonight, it might not be _almost_."

"Can I see the paper?" Pietro asked.

Clint handed it over. Pietro took the document in his hands and let his new, expanded name burn into his brain.

 _Pietro Maximoff_ _ **Barton**_ _._

 _This is actually real…_ he thought dimly. _I'm somebody's now._

"Alright." Clint stretched. "Let's figure out where to get food before our party gets crashed."

"Speaking of food, I wonder how Steve and Sharon are doing." Wanda said. "They ought to be eating dinner by now."

Pietro gave a snorting laugh. "He's probably blushing into his soup."

Wanda gave her twin a shove. "He's not that bad."

"Close." Clint muttered. Laura took a page from Wanda's book and gave her husband a smack on the arm. "Ow! I'm just sayin'!"

"Well, quit saying and start driving." Laura shot back.

"I need a destination first!"

Wanda leaned over against the window and let the banter wash over her. She knew that no matter what, they would end up in a restaurant, and leave with full stomachs and happy hearts.

She didn't have to scrounge or scrape or search anymore. She was safe. She could relax and go back to those lost days of childhood, when _Mama_ and _Tata_ were in charge and nothing terrible could really happen.

Pietro tapped her arm. "Hey—alright?"

Wanda smiled, a real, full smile. "I'm wonderful."

Pietro sighed. "Yeah…me, too."

* * *

"Anyway, so we're at this party, covers in place, waiting to apprehend the target when all of a sudden…" Sharon stopped mid-sentence, long enough to realize that, though their food had come at least ten minutes prior, Steve had yet to take a bite. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

Steve jerked back to reality. "What? Oh! Yeah! Food. I should…probably get on that." He stabbed into his pasta and twirled the fork, and then stuffed the giant mass of carbs down his throat.

He had found this little Italian place near Canal Street—the heart of _Chinatown_ , mind—and it was turning out to be one of his better ideas. It wasn't very crowded, the staff was friendly, and the food was absolutely fantastic.

 _Definitely the best place I've ever been on a date! Going to the drugstore for a malt doesn't come close! I guess it helps that I actually have_ _ **money**_ _…_

"I'll hold off on the spy stuff until later." Sharon said, going back to her own meal. "Apparently it's far too distracting."

"No, no, it's…great. I love it. I just…I couldn't help but think…" Steve trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't help but think, 'how'd I find a girl like this'? Brave and smart and a little bit crazy and beautiful and…" Steve's face was lit up like the sun.

"Aw, c'mon, you're makin' me blush." Sharon said, not entirely joking.

"No, _seriously_." Steve looked at her with that endearingly honest gaze of his. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before."

Sharon frowned a bit. "Not even with…?"

It was a hard and awkward topic to bring up, but it needed to be addressed. They were both old enough, and had seen enough to know that _not_ speaking about something only brought worse pain.

Steve sighed. "I was…a little naïve. Not that I regret what I had with Peggy, not at all…but it wasn't exactly a conventional romance."

"Well, it was in the middle of a war. And not just any war."

"True. And I think…we would have come back, after the war. Prob'ly gotten married. But…I guess it's useless to speculate. Now, I'm getting to be with you…normally, y'know? And…it's nice." He smiled. "Really nice."

Sharon smiled back. "Well, I can't say that I've ever really had any meaningful dates besides this one…and the coffee in London. So…thanks."

"You're welcome." Steve shrugged. "I guess I could say the same. Bucky has about fifty bad date stories about me that I'm sure he'd _love_ to regale you with…"

"And see, that's what I don't understand!" Sharon cried. "You're, like, the nicest man alive! How did _no one want to date you_?"

Steve gave a sheepish grin. "Well, there was that one time I talked a girl's ear off about the benefit of buying war bonds."

Sharon cocked her head, and then let out a snorting laugh. "Okay…I can see how that would be a mood killer."

"Yeah…looking back, I guess I was a little bit too gung-ho about joinin' up. It's just…"

"'As a kid in the Caribbean, I wished for a war, I knew that I was poor, I knew it was the only way to rise up…'" Sharon mumbled the quote under her breath, but Steve's sharp hearing caught it anyway.

"Where's that from?" he asked.

"Hamilton."

"Ah. Yeah, that about sums it up." he smiled sadly. "I fed Bucky all kinds 'a bull about havin' no right to sit in a factory while guys were fighting and dying…and I didn't feel like I did. But, at the end of it…I really just wanted a chance. Wanted some respect. Wanted to…to actually feel like a man."

Sharon reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I hope you feel like one now." she said honestly. "Because I think you've become the paragon of manliness."

Steve laughed. "God, I hope not. I never wanted to be a paragon of anything! Just wanted to be someone who made sure no one else hurt like I did."

 _So…a hero._ Sharon thought. _Good grief, Carter; how'd you manage to snag him, again?_

"There was something I was wondering…" Steve started.

"Yes?"

"What…" Steve stopped, chuckled. "I can't believe I'm asking this. You're gonna kill me for asking this."

"Asking what, Rogers? Does it have to do with Aunt Peggy…?"

"No! I was thinkin'…what are you looking for in a husband?"

Sharon felt like the floor had been snatched out from under her. "A _what_?"

Steve's face was bright red. "I shoulda said that better. A…a serious relationship, how 'bout that? I know…people got different ideas about relationships, these days."

"I'm not…" Sharon shook her head. "I'm not offended! I'm just…more along the lines of 'damn, that's gutsy!'."

"Well, I am the guy that jumped on a grenade." Steve muttered, sounding mildly proud of himself.

"So, wait, that was an actual thing? Aunt Peggy didn't make that up?"

"Nope. But my question still stands."

Sharon sat back against the booth and thought for a moment.

 _A_ _ **husband**_ _, he says! A husband!_ _ **Someone's**_ _feelin' gutsy! But I guess…_

 _He's lonely. Not like before, but he's still lonely. He's not some young kid anymore; he wants to think about actually having a life outside of Avenging._

 _"_ _You're not exactly a 'young kid' either…"_ Her brain shot back at her.

 _Touché._ She acknowledged grudgingly.

"I think…" she began slowly, taking stock of all her scattered dreams and wishes. "I'm looking for someone who's not afraid to deal with the hard stuff. Relationships take work. And also…someone loving. Kind. Smart, but not so smart he thinks he could run the world blindfolded. Humility's important; being willing to admit you made a mistake. Someone I can laugh with, dream with, have fun with. Someone…"

 _Someone like you_ , her brain supplied, but the words died on her tongue.

Something must have shown on her face, though, because Steve just nodded seriously and said, "I'll keep all that in mind."

 _"_ _Boy, ya got me helpless…"_ the lyric hummed at the back of Sharon's mind. She angrily tried to kill it, but the song kept 'playing'. _"_ _Down for the count, and the sky's the limit…"_

 _Oh shut up!_ She thought irritably.

 _Even if it's true…_

She looked down at her food. "I think my pasta got cold."

Steve froze, and then glanced at his own plate. "Mine, too. Wanna take it back to the Tower and heat it up?"

"Can we get a cannoli first?"

"Sure. I'll buy you twenty if you want."

Sharon laughed. "One's enough for me! But…thanks."

"No problem."

Both of them instinctively knew that the exchange meant far more than what was on the surface.

"When we get back, I'm totally getting you hooked on Hamilton." Sharon added.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "The play is online?"

"Well, not technically. Probably bootlegs are, but I'll stick with showing you the cast recording—the soundtrack. I think you'll like it. Or we could watch a movie…"

"Movies are good." Steve murmured.

 _Anything with you is fine…_

After dessert and paying the bill, the happy couple exited out into the cool night. It was dark, but everywhere was lit up with the lights from a thousand businesses and streetlights and cars.

"The city that never sleeps." Steve said, sardonic.

"I like it." Sharon took his arm. "I liked seeing some of where you grew up."

"Nothin' fancy…but it was home. I kinda miss it, sometimes."

"I bet. Fury…" Sharon shook her head. "I still can't believe he tried pulling that stunt with you, after you woke up."

"They were tryin' to ease me into reality." Steve said. "And I understand now..."

"Yeah, but how hard could it have been to do some research? Forget that the baseball game they played was one you were _at_ —which, they totally should have known—the game was played in a year that you were _still in Brooklyn_!" Sharon made a nose of exasperation. "Honestly, someone probably got the evil eye from Fury."

"I don't think that's something I want." Steve said.

"Probably not."

"'Course…I suppose it'd only be half as effective, seeing that he's only got one good eye…"

Sharon laughed.

"But, yeah, I…there's this song, old song by now, called _Brother, Can You Spare a Dime_? Ever heard of it?"

"I think so."

"Anyway, I kinda feel like it, sometimes. 'Once I built a railroad, and now it's done…' Everything familiar is done. But other times…other times I think everything I ever wanted is just beginning."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The sounds of the city swirled around them as they made their way to the subway entrance.

"Some days I think I'm allowed to dream again." Steve whispered.

The words hit Sharon like a ton of bricks.

 _"_ _He's got twenty voices in the back of his head saying he's a screw-up and a failure."_

 _And probably twenty voices saying he'll never be able to live a normal life._

"I don't know all of what you've been dreaming." Sharon said slowly. "But I think I'd like to be around when those dreams actually happen."

Steve gazed down at her (he was so _tall_ ). "I hope so. And I hope…whatever you've been looking for in life, I wanna be around when it happens, too."

And together, they climbed down the stairs into the subway tunnel—the soldier out of time and the agent with no agency, both with the hope in their hearts that one day, they could be something more.

Someday.

* * *

 **Hope you liked!**

 **The "what are you looking for in a husband?" bit was inspired by my dad, who actually asked my mom that on their first date (or one of their first dates). I joked him about it when he told me, like, "wow, Dad, not gonna beat around the bush, are you?". ;) And, I felt like it was something Steve would ask. I think after everything they've both been through, the idea of working towards a stable, permanent relationship would be something they'd both want. But that's just me. I really hope I did the relationship justice.**

 **Also, if you're wondering why I keep slipping in Monopoly cameos, it's because my family is nuts for the game. My brother is particularly scary when we play...**

 **Tune in next time for: "What can you do that doesn't involve killing?" staring Steve, Bucky, Sam, and the twins. The answers might surprise you. In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	20. Chapter 20

**AHHHH! *Claws furiously up from the depths of college* I HAVE RETURNED AT LAST!**

 **Good grief, I thought this chapter was NEVER going to get written! But, I churned it out at last. I hope it was worth the rather extended break I took...I think next chapter will be easier, and I have Fall Break coming up.**

 **Also, if you know nothing about the play Fiddler on the Roof, you might want to look it up...there's a scene in here that's best understood if you know at least a little bit about it/have seen some of the movie.**

 **Also, I know not a lot about the inner workings of government, so if anything I describe about getting a pardon sounds wrong, I'm sorry.**

 **Anyway, on with the chapter! Enjoy**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

"No, I am _not_ backing any initiative to search for James Barnes! In fact, I'm willing to argue that he be given a pardon. Yes, I said a pardon! And yes I'll take this to court!"

Tony's voice, loud and ringing, was causing Vision no small amount of consternation. The man was pacing in the space between the kitchen and the formal living area, a dark scowl lining his features. The android leaned against the hallway wall, his eyes following Tony's movement.

"Don't get worried." came Natasha's smooth voice from behind him. "He's mad for a good reason this time."

"I gathered that." Vision said, relaxing a bit. "I just…don't enjoy it when he gets…emotional."

Natasha smirked and patted his shoulder. "Such a Spock."

"Is that a reference from a movie?"

"TV show, actually. You haven't seen Star Trek yet?"

"No, I don't believe…was that the one with the two droids and the desert and the young man…?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, that's Star _Wars_. Very important difference. You could start a lot of fights on the internet by mixing those two up."

Vision sighed. "Humans are strange."

"Agreed. Completely. Hey, did Tony mention that the kids are coming over soon?"

Vision looked confused. "Which children?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Which children would be allowed at our secret Avengers base that isn't completely secret?"

"Oh…Christy. And Lila and Cooper…Nathaniel?"

"No, not Nathaniel; he's a little young. Christy wanted to pick back up on 'spy lessons,'" Natasha made air quotes as she said the phrase, looking highly amused. "She mentioned it in Lila and Cooper's hearing, and naturally, they both wanted in. I've been teaching them informal tricks for years, and so has Clint, so we might as well formalize it."

Vision nodded, his own smile growing in the face of Natasha's amusement. "And what is Laura's reaction to all this?"

"Oh, she's more-or-less resigned. And all in favor of her kids knowing how to protect themselves, and others. That's what I'll be showing them anyway; defensive moves. Basic hand-to-hand, maybe a little knife work, gymnastic moves…nothing too terrifying."

"I see…and Steve?"

Natasha gave a soft laugh, remembering. "He's been outnumbered since day one. Christy had barely been in the Tower a month before I talked him into letting her learn a few things. She, of course, was completely on board. And she's progressed well. She knows her way around a bow, mostly thanks to Clint, and a knife, and in an emergency, she can shoot a pistol. Not to mention she packs a half-decent punch."

"Wanda mentioned that." Vision muttered.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "That night was such a wreck. We were so tired, I'm surprised the worst thing that happened was Wanda getting punched in the stomach."

Vision nodded. "I was not fatigued, but I remember a lot of sitting around and trying to understand. Everything was so strange and new."

By this point, Tony had hung up with whoever he had been talking to, and an alarm suddenly beeped.

Tony started wildly. "Who the hell is here?"

"Language!" Natasha called, putting herself in his line of sight. Tony was still a bit jumpy after…well, ever since Afghanistan, really. "It's just your pseudo-nieces and nephew, remember?"

At this, Tony's tensed body visibly melted. "Uh, yes, yes…of course I remembered!"

"They're probably not going to be alone, though." Natasha added. "Especially since none of them can drive."

Tony snorted a bit at this obvious point (while accepting the underhanded warning of 'be prepared and be nice'). "So who played chauffer?"

"Steve." Vision replied instantly, having just used his abilities to check.

Natasha prepared for some sort of slightly adverse reaction on Tony's part. True, their respective "teams" had patched things up a decent amount. Tony had been to "Avengers' Hill" and Steve had been to the Tower.

But none of "Team Cap" had been back to the base as of yet.

Completely contrary to Natasha's fears, though, Tony clapped his hands together and cried, "Just the man I wanted to see!"

Vision and Natasha glanced at each other with identical confusion. "Who are you, and what have you done with Tony Stark?" Natasha asked, only half-kidding.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I'm _trying_ , Romanoff. Am I not allowed to try?"

His voice cracked slightly on the last bit.

Natasha nodded. "You're allowed to try." she answered softly. "It's the best thing you can do."

The "doorbell" alarm that indicated a visitor suddenly chimed, and Tony hit a button on his wrist controller that opened the main entrance to the base.

"Auntie Nat!" Lila's voice sounded first and clear. "Ready for spy lessons!"

As the group came into view—and, sure enough, Steve brought up the rear—Cooper said, "Don't scream that you want spy lessons, that's…that's…I don't know the word."

"Counterintuitive." Christy supplied.

Cooper shot his cousin a look of half pride and half annoyance. "Why do you know everything!?"

"I read." Christy responded primly.

"So do I!"

"I read _and_ live with a bunch of grown-ups."

Steve cleared his throat quietly. "Hey."

Instantly, the squabble ceased.

"And what do all three of you say to Natasha?"

"Thank you for teaching us." The children chorused.

Natasha smiled. "No problem. C'mon guys, let's head to the gym."

As they trooped off, Vision, Tony, and Steve stood awkwardly in the main room.

"I'll just…do something else…" Vision said lamely, vanishing through the nearest wall.

Tony smirked. "And then there were two."

"How have you been?" Steve asked, taking the plunge to break the ice.

Tony shrugged. "Good enough. Actually…I have a proposition for ya, Cap."

Steve looked intrigued. "Shoot."

Tony gestured at the couches, and the two men sat down.

"I have been…on the phone. With people. High-up people. And, uh, ever since May I've been making a plan."

"Before or after everything that happened?"

"After." Tony blew air through his mouth. "Literally everything that Ross did was illegal. You realize that, right?"

Steve nodded slowly. "I didn't think he had the authority to shut up U.S. citizens like he did."

"Well, yeah, that. That bit's obvious. But even the Accords themselves…" Tony leaned in. "They still haven't been ratified."

Steve blinked in shock. "What do you mean 'they still haven't been ratified'? Wasn't that what happened in Vienna?"

"They were ratified by the United Nations, sure." Tony clarified. "But they still haven't passed muster in the Senate. And they certainly hadn't been agreed to when everything went down. So your actions were…technically illegal by international law. But not in the States. So that begs the question, what was the Secretary of State doing messing around at a floating supermax ocean pokey? Why were they putting out a shoot-to-kill order based on blurry video footage?"

"And why, when their bombing suspect turned himself in, alibi and all, did they lock him up and leave him alone in a room with an un-vetted psychiatrist?" Steve finished, coals of smoldering anger being stoked into a roaring flame.

Tony nodded in acknowledgement of this point. "The thing is…we've got a lot of evidence for why Ross should be standing before a Senate committee and you guys should all have official pardons."

"You don't have to convince me." Steve muttered. "But that's nice to say and hard to make happen. Got any brilliant ideas?"

Tony smirked. "Just a few. And some contacts. I don't suppose you have anything to bring to the table. No powerful military brass whose grandfathers got saved by _Captain America_?"

Steve frowned. "There…might be a couple of those. But isn't that…taking advantage of people?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Steve. Having and using connections isn't a bad thing. And right now, it may be the best thing." He paused, and stuck out his hand. "So, are you in?"

Steve hesitated for a moment. "Tony…you don't have to do any of this."

His tone more aptly said 'why are you doing this?'

"Sure I do." Tony replied.

"Look, we all said our piece, but I know you're still not completely…"

"I'm not." Tony gave a heavy sigh. "I'm not. Your best friend in all the world murdered my parents in cold blood. Did he know what he was doing? Not really, but that doesn't make it much better."

"You know he's sorry." Steve whispered. " _I'm_ sorry. Neither of us would have wanted that to happen…but I know that doesn't change what did."

"Yeah…" Tony paused. "But, we all know where brooding gets me. I figured I might as well do something constructive for a change. Barnes doesn't deserve to be hunted down and treated like a war criminal any more than you do. Or Wanda, or Barton, or anyone else. And…" his voice shrunk. "I _did not_ enjoy being treated like some government patsy. If Ross thinks he can get away with acting like that to me, he's got another thing coming."

 _Should've thought of that before you signed the Accords…_ Steve thought, but didn't say.

"So…are you in or not?" Tony continued. "I was about to place a call now…"

After half a minute, Steve gave a short nod.

"I'm in."

Tony grinned. "Well, this'll be fun."

* * *

In the end, it took roughly two weeks of back and forth phone conversations and pulling strings to get any results. And a decent amount of yelling. Steve was almost, but not quite, shocked at how passionate he could become when his friends' reputations and legal standing were on the line.

But in between all of the arguing and convincing of higher-ups, some other interesting conversations were taking place on Avengers Hill.

It all began when Sam decided he'd had enough of sporadic training and sitting around bored.

"You're going to school?" Pietro asked, craning over to peek at the man's laptop.

" _College_." Sam corrected. "I'm getting an online Master's degree in counseling, specifically in counseling for vets. Hopefully, I can work with the VA again, or with a private practice."

"Master's means smart, right?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Two years of college gets you an Associate's degree. Four gets you a Bachelor's. Five gets you a Master's."

"So not smart, just crazy."

"Why crazy?" Wanda asked, from her seat at the kitchen bar.

"Anyone who goes to school for five extra years is crazy!"

Sam laughed. "We'll see who's crazy when I have a job."

"Ha!" Pietro shot back, but he sounded slightly unbalanced.

 _A job, huh…?_

He'd had jobs, of course. But they had been 'get some money so you can eat' jobs, not 'I'm doing this because I like it' jobs.

"Does that mean you'll have homework, Sam?" Christy asked. She was sitting at the kitchen table trying to finish an assignment.

"Yeah, probably some papers and other stuff."

"Yay! You'll have homeschool like me!"

Wanda looked over at Christy. "Are you not done yet?"

Christy sighed. "This assignment takes a while. I gotta answer comprehension questions about my science reading."

"Is it difficult?"

"No, I just didn't do the reading."

Wanda's eyebrows shot up, and Pietro started laughing.

"I'm finding the parts that have to do with the questions and then answering the questions! I'm not reading the whole thing!"

Wanda sighed and turned her back on Christy exaggeratedly. "Just finish it, I guess."

"So…did you two ever think about what you wanted to do with yourselves?" Sam asked.

"Yes. Avenge our parents and make people pay for our suffering." Pietro said, deadpan.

"Pietro!" Wanda cried.

"What, he asked if we thought…"

"I meant _since you've been out of Sokovia_." Sam clarified, though he had a sneaking suspicion Pietro had known exactly what he'd meant.

"Oh. Then no."

"You sound like Inigo Montoya." Christy piped up.

The three adults looked at each other. "Should I ask…?" Sam muttered rhetorically.

"At the end of the movie, when he says that he's spent so much time trying to get revenge that he doesn't know what to do with the rest of his life."

The twins glanced at each other.

 _"_ _She's not wrong…"_ Pietro sent. Out loud, he added. "What did you want to be when you were little, Wanda?"

"Um…" Wanda bit her lip in thought. "A teacher, I think. Or a doctor. But now I don't…who would give a medical degree to a criminal?"

"You are _not_ a criminal." Sam argued fiercely, his eyes snapping. "And if Steve and Tony are successful with what they're trying to do, there'll be a government pardon with your name on it; like the whole mess in May never happened. Besides, you have a right to get education."

"I suppose…"

"I _know_. But…do either of those things still ring true for you? Like, something you'd actually wanna look into?"

"I don't know…" Wanda sighed. "I like helping people. I guess that's obvious. But that doesn't help. I…I had to start over, so much. I want to help others do that, too. People who have had everything taken away from them."

"There's a lot of open opportunities if that's your goal." Sam said. "Think about it; do some research."

"I also like taking photographs…but that is a hobby, not a job."

"You'd be surprised what kind of hobbies can become jobs." Sam turned toward Pietro and gave a pretend frown. "Now, as for _you_."

"Professional athlete!" Christy called.

"Finish your work!" Wanda called back.

Pietro actually seemed to be mulling the suggestion over. "I did want to be a football star for a while."

"You and every other boy in Sokovia." Wanda added.

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Okay, sorry, but why football…?" Christy started.

" _Not_ American football, he means soccer, I'm guessin'." Sam answered the almost-question.

Pietro snorted. "No one else calls it 'soccer,' only Americans. And your 'football'—you do not use your foot!"

"Technically the kicker does." Sam replied, smirking. "You're right, it is ridiculous…but it's not likely to change any time soon. There's a reason we still haven't switched over to the metric system."

"I think athlete would be cheating." Wanda said, switching the subject back.

Pietro gave an exaggerated pout, but at last conceded. "Maybe."

"So what else?" Sam prompted.

Pietro sighed. "I never thought about it. Not much. I…I want to _live_ , you know. Not…be in school, tied down. I don't mind learning…I mind no action."

As the younger man talked, Sam couldn't help but study his facial and other physical expressions. Wide, earnest eyes, fast-moving hands, cocked head…

"You're pretty expressive, ya know." he said slowly. "Ever thought about acting?"

Pietro straightened up in surprise. "Acting? Like movies?"

"Movies, TV, plays…"

"Ooh!" Christy quit pretending to be ignoring the conversation. "You could be on Broadway!"

"Christy, there is no way…"

"Aw, c'mon; they'd hire ya in a second!"

"I can't lose my accent!"

"So practice! Ooh, you could be Fiyero, in _Wicked_! And you sing so good anyway…"

Pietro glanced at Wanda and Sam. "Am I really now having a fake acting career planned by an eleven year old?"

"Apparently." Sam deadpanned.

" _Ohrabriti_ , _brate_." Wanda intoned with fake solemnity.

Pietro rolled his eyes.

"Think about it." Sam echoed. "At least it's something."

Nodding, Pietro let Sam's words swirl around in his mind for a moment.

Growing up, it was clear that Wanda was the more studious one. He wasn't stupid, but Wanda was smart _and_ had an intense drive that he didn't possess in equal measure. She could focus in…

And maybe he could, too? If it was something he really wanted…

 _I like to mess around, I like to pretend, I can mimic not badly…and my memory is pretty good._

The thought of having something _tangible_ to work for, beyond Avenging, filled him with an inexplicable sense of hope.

 _Well, at the very least, it's a better suggestion than piracy…_

* * *

"No! I can't do this!"

Christy and Cooper both looked over at Lila, who was sitting next to them at the kitchen table with her head in her hands.

The three of them were up at the Mansion doing homework.

"You can do it, Lila." Christy said, in her best 'Sam' tone.

"Yeah, it can't be that bad." Cooper echoed. "Is it a hard problem?"

Lila sniffed. "No…but it's stupid!"

"Lemme see." Christy stood up and bent over the eight year old's math worksheet. "'There were ten birds on a feeder. Six flew away. How many were left? Illustrate your answer.'" She frowned. "Ten minus six? You know that, Lila!"

"Yeah, but I can't _draw_ it!" Lila cried. "Look at the tiny space! I can't draw good and I already took up the whole spot with math work! And it's my last problem and I just wanna be done…"

By this time, Steve had come into the kitchen, to see what all the fuss was about.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in the sight of a slightly-hysterical Lila.

"My homework's dumb!"

"Lila doesn't wanna draw it like the problem says…"

"It _is_ kinda silly…"

Steve took the worksheet and looked the problem over. "You know the answer to this, right Lila?"

"Four." Lila mumbled.

"Alright." Steve sat down at the table. "C'mon. We'll work with this."

"I mean, it _is_ kinda dumb." Christy echoed. "It's _math_ homework not _art_ homework!"

For a moment, there was silence as Steve scratched away on Lila's paper.

"This is your work." He said finally, pointing to the scrawled 10-6=4 with his free hand. "So you know the answer on your own. And I'll show you how to draw a bird. But because I think that this _is_ a bit of a ridiculous thing to ask of children…" he stopped scratching and moved back from the paper. " _Voila_."

There, in the small space allotted for the problem, sat a tiny, neatly drawn image of four birds on a feeder, and six winged lines flying off into the distance.

"Wow…" Cooper said, eyes getting big.

"You're a good artist, Uncle Steve!" Lila said. "You should make drawings and sell them, so you don't have to be an Avenger all the time."

Steve's eyebrows shot up at Lila's precocious words. Sam had mentioned a certain conversation he'd had with the twins…

"Well, I dunno about that…" he muttered.

"It _is_ really good, Dad." Christy said. "And you've drawn other stuff before that's really good, too."

Lila tugged on his sleeve. "Can you show me how to draw a bird, now?"

"Did you guys finish your homework?"

Lila nodded.

"Almost." Cooper said.

"I'm done!" Christy said.

Steve sighed. "Alright. C'mere, Lila. Christy, you too, if you want. We'll be quiet so Cooper can finish."

After hastily grabbing clean paper and pencils, the impromptu lesson began.

"Okay, so first you start with an oval, like this…"

It was a simple thing to do, but Steve had almost forgotten how much pleasure drawing gave him—how good it felt to _make_ something and watch it come alive through your hands

His mind drifted back to a conversation he'd had with Sam what felt like forever ago.

 _You thinking about getting out?_

 _No. I don't know. To be honest, I don't know what I would do with myself if I did._

 _Ultimate fighting? It's just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?_

 _I don't know…_

"You okay, Dad?" Christy asked, frowning a little. After four years of living around combat veterans, she knew how to recognize a 'mood'.

Steve managed a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine, baby. Just thinkin'."

"Well, okay. Don't think too hard!"

Steve laughed. "I won't; promise."

 _This…this makes me happy. My kid, my family. Drawing. Making instead of taking. Teaching…_

Another conversation with Sam drifted through his mind.

 _You know, art therapy is totally a thing._

 _You saying I need therapy?_

 _I've_ _ **already**_ _said that. I mean, for you to do. Like a job. Just something to think about…_

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Lila was right. Art was something that was his, all his. Long before the serum, he had always been scribbling on whatever paper he could find, creating something from nothing.

And he had been _good at it_ , too. There were few things he had been good at, back then.

At the time, it hadn't seemed like much of a career. But now, with money no longer an issue and a new life starting to take off...

Maybe anything was possible.

The final straw came a few days later, when a beaming Lila showed him the now-graded worksheet. Across the top, her teacher had written, _"Nice drawing!"_

Christy gave him a _look_.

Steve started researching "art degree programs" that night.

* * *

Pietro put the supposedly inconspicuous black SUV that everyone called Steve's 'dad car' in park and let out a shaky breath. He turned and looked at the large, brick building to the right of him labeled "Hebron Community Center".

 _If this goes wrong, I blame the fact that we ran out of milk._

Christy tapped his arm. "So…are we gonna go in, or just sit here?"

In answer, Pietro unbuckled his seat belt and took the key out of the ignition.

"Let's go."

Several days prior, they had run out of milk, as well as a few other amenities. Laura was already going into town on a shopping trip, so Pietro had been voluntold to go with her.

Everything had gone normally, until he had noticed a flyer half blowing off the outside wall of the store.

 _"'_ _Announcing: Hebron Community Center's annual play—Fiddler on the Roof. Auditions open to all, tryouts Oct. 8, 9 (10 if needed). More information on our website, see below…'" Pietro read the flyer aloud. "What's this?"_

 _Laura scanned the paper. "Oh, the community center puts on a play every year. I think last year it was The Music Man. Guess they're getting ready for another one."_

 _Pietro frowned. "This play…what is it about?"_

 _"_ _Well, it's been a while since I've seen the movie of it, and I've never seen the actual Broadway production…it's about a Jewish dairy farmer in—Russia, I think?— in the early 1900's who has to survive all his daughters getting married to men that don't fit within the tradition. It's a good story…"_

 _"_ _Russia, huh?" Pietro mumbled, half to himself._

 ** _I wouldn't even have to fake an accent…_**

 _"_ _It says 'auditions open to all'. All means…me, yes?"_

 _"_ _You wanna give it a try?" Laura asked._

 _"_ _Maybe…according to Sam, I'm 'expressive'."_

 _"_ _That you are." Laura gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Go for it. It'll be a good experience, I think."_

So, here he stood. Christy had been ecstatic upon hearing the news, and had asked if she could try out as well. After negotiating with Steve that yes, she would still be able to do her schoolwork if she got a role, he had agreed.

Possibly even more shocking was the fact that Steve had let Pietro _drive the car_ into town. Both twins had licenses, but Pietro wasn't exactly known as the world's safest driver.

The two of them walked into the building, both a little nervous. Neither of them knew anyone. Inside the main auditorium, there was a decent-sized crowd, but not overly huge. Hebron wasn't a large town anyway.

They got tryout scripts with various different scenes, to give a feel for each character. Tonight was tryouts for a lot of the younger characters, including the five daughters and the three male love interests.

"Hi!" a girl's voice chirped next to Christy. "What's your name?"

Christy looked over. "I-I'm Christy."

"I'm Ally. I haven't seen you before, where do you go to school?"

"I'm homeschooled, but my cousins go to Riverford Elementary. Lila and Cooper Barton?"

Ally nodded. "I know Cooper; he's in my grade. He's nice, but he's super quiet in class. He likes to read."

"Yeah, he does. What made you come to try out?"

"Uh…well, I like acting and I like the movie of this…"

Pietro smiled, glad to see that Christy had made a friend. He knew one of Steve's biggest worries was that she was too isolated from children her own age.

After a brief logistics overview by the woman in charge of things, the auditions got underway. Mainly, it was a matter of testing out different scenes with different people in each role. Neither Pietro nor Christy was called for a while, so they got to sit and observe.

Finally, though, Pietro's name was called. The director placed him in the role of Fyedka, who was apparently a Russian farmer.

 _Again with the 'don't have to fake an accent'_ _bit_ …

"Okay, so in this scene, we have Chava, poor girl, who is just trying to walk along with her cow…" the director pointed to the girl in that role, "getting harassed by a bunch a Russian boys who have nothing better to do with their lives—where are my Russian boys?"

A few teenage and early-twentysomethings awkwardly raised their hands.

"Alright. So, you guys, be threatening, but not over the top. It's like high school bullying, but with extra racism on the side."

One of the boys snorted a little at that description.

"Then, just when it starts to look really bad, out comes Fyedka to the rescue…" she gestured at Pietro. "You, you need to be protective and also a little love-struck. She's a beautiful girl, after all…"

Pietro nodded, and couldn't help sneaking a glance at the girl playing Chava, who had long brown hair, blue eyes, and a nice-looking smile.

 _Yes, she is…_

"Alright! Let's get this show on the road. Take your places!"

The girl playing Chava started to walk along the stage. A few girl extras started to call out, to start the scene:

"Mazel Tov, Chava, mazel tov!"

"Thank you!" 'Chava' called back

"Soon it will be you!"

"Give my best wishes to Tzeitel!"

The girl got about halfway across the stage, when the group of boys swaggered out, like instructed.

"Mazel tov!" they chorused mockingly, getting super close and awkwardly messing with the girl's hair and clothes. It was clear they were hesitant to actually act so boorish.

"C'mon guys, it's all right! You're allowed to act creepy!" The director called.

The boys reluctantly stepped it up a notch.

"No, please, stop it…I just want to get past…" the girl cried, trying to twist her way out of the pack. Her tone was appropriately panicked, and Pietro felt a notch of worry rise in his stomach.

After their parents deaths, he and Wanda had never lived anywhere particularly _nice_. His sister's well-being had always laid heavily on his mind. So to hear a girl calling out in _that_ tone, even just acting, awakened his mile long protective streak like nothing else.

He took a deep breath and strode forward, script clutched in his hand. "Alright, stop it!" he called, pleased at the emotion that seeped into his voice.

Apparently the emotion was convincing. The boys all gaped in shock that Pietro was sure wasn't part of the act. "Wh-what's wrong with you, Fyedka?" one of them sputtered at last.

Pietro edged closer to the one who spoke. "Just stop it." he hissed

"We were just having a little fun, Fyedka…"

"'Goodbye, Sasha." Pietro concentrated all his inner wells of contemptive sarcasm on that one line. "'I said, _goodbye_.'"

It helped that there had been a very bossy and annoying boy at the orphanage all those years ago, also named Sasha.

The boys all filed off, until it was just him and the girl standing on the stage, with a fake wooden structure on wheels for the cow.

"'I'm sorry about them.'" he said the line with real sincerity, shrugging his shoulders. "'They don't mean any harm.'"

The girl gave a glare that could cut ice. "'Don't they?'" She started to walk again. He followed.

"'Is there something you want?'" she asked, real exasperation in her tone.

 _Oh, she's good…she must have siblings…_

Pietro gave his best cocky smirk that had made all the girls back in Sokovia swoon. "Yes. I'd like to talk to you."

"'I'd rather not.'" The girl took another couple steps. Pietro moved to block her off.

"'I've often seen you at the bookseller's. Not many girls in this village like to read. Would…would you like to borrow this book?'" He held out his hand with a flourish, as though offering something.

The girl managed a torn look on her face. "No. Thank you." she said slowly.

"Why?" Pietro put his hand down. "Because I'm not Jewish?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. "Do you feel about us the way they…" he gestured off-stage. "feel about you? I didn't think you would."

The girl looked shy now, a little embarrassed. Still acting like a champ.

"And what do you know about me, eh? Let me tell you about myself." Pietro began, barely having to act at all as he circled the girl. "I'm a pleasant fellow. Charming. Honest. Ambitious. Quite bright…" he paused, smirking lightly. "And very modest."

He could practically hear Wanda's voice in his head.

 _"_ _ **You're**_ _modest, and I'm Tony Stark!"_

Pietro saw the girl's lips twitch a little, breaking her façade.

"'Go ahead.'" He held out his hand again. "'Take the book. And, when you return it…I'll ask you how you like it. And we can talk about it for a while. And then we can talk about life and how we…feel about things.'"

He almost blushed, having to utter those lines, but he managed to keep his cool. From the looks of things, the girl was having a hard time staying in character as well.

She reached out and pretended to take his imaginary book. "'Thank you…'"

The scene ended. Pietro's head was buzzing so fast, he could barely listen to anything the director was saying.

He could, however, very clearly hear Christy's voice shouting, "That's my cousin!"

"Hey, uh…good job." The girl said, awkwardly sticking out her hand. "I…I'm Angela."

Pietro reached out and shook her hand, smiling bright. "I'm Pietro. Nice to meet you. You did a good job as well."

Angela blushed. "No, but seriously, you were brilliant. I'd be shocked if they don't cast you right off. You been in any plays before?"

Pietro shook his head. "No, none before. I…I saw the flyer in town and I thought, 'why not?'"

"Well, I'm glad you decided to come. Uh…"

Pietro made his move. "I'm sitting over there with my cousin. You…you can come if you like."

Angela nodded. "Y-yeah…I think I'd like that. Just let me get my stuff."

Christy practically jumped on him as soon as he reached their seats. "You were great! You were so great! You're gonna be on _Broadway_ …"

Pietro laughed as he sat down. "Easy, _mače_ , don't go so far yet."

Christy hmphed. "You're not supposed to be the practical one. And I say you were great. So there."

"So there." Pietro mimicked, pulling Christy in for a hug. "Thanks for making me do this. I wasn't gonna really come, until you said something…"

Christy shrugged. "No problem. I'm having fun, too. Ally likes Hamilton."

Pietro rolled his eyes. _Thank you so much, Sharon, for bringing that musical into our house._ _ **Thank**_ _ **you**_ _…_

But he held his tongue. Tonight was too happy to spoil it with any jokes about the musical that had taken over the Mansion.

 _Besides, 'My Shot'_ _ **is**_ _kind of catchy…_

Angela came over with her purse and script, and introductions were made all around.

"Oh, sure I know the Bartons! I volunteer at Riverford as a sub, and with some of the afternoon programs. I'd heard them mention something about family coming to stay, but it was a little hard to follow…"

Pietro smirked. "Trust me. It's a very, _very_ long story."

"Long." Christy echoed. "So long you'd fall asleep."

Angela smiled at the odd, vivacious pair. "I kind of doubt that."

Christy had the chance to act in a few ensemble roles, as well as in the parts of the two youngest sisters, Bielke and Shprintze. She was mostly just happy every time she got to say a line.

By the time they left, it was late, but they were both smiling ear to ear.

"Good night?" Pietro asked, as they got in the car.

Christy nodded. "I met a friend and you met a girl."

"Not like that!" Pietro protested. "She's…nice. And funny. And a really good actor."

"Uh- _huh_ …"

"Find someone else to matchmake!"

"Matchmaker, matchmaker…" Christy started to sing.

Pietro groaned. But Christy wouldn't stop, so he finally gave in.

"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match…"

* * *

Bucky could barely believe it.

Earlier that morning, Steve had gotten off a phone call with Tony, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

 _"_ _We did it! It's done! We all got official pardons and Ross is getting investigated by a Senate committee!"_

Everyone had flown into the living room, all talking a mile a minute.

 _"_ _What…?"_

 _"_ _How…?"_

 _"_ _You can't be serious!"_

 _Steve shook his head. "I'm serious! It's happening! According to Natasha, the bit about Ross is trending…"_

Sam had furiously checked online, and the rest was history.

It seemed like things were finally looking up for the Rogue Avengers.

Bucky was happy, he really was. But it was almost too much to handle at once, so he'd retreated out to the front porch to mull things over.

 _I'm free…_ He turned the words over in his mind. _Nobody can hunt me anymore…nobody legal, anyway…_

It was a heady thought. If he could shake off the legacy of the Winter Soldier…there was no telling what he could become.

The front door creaked and Bucky turned to see Wanda poke her head around the corner of the house.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Bucky nodded. "'M fine. Why—is Steve lookin' for me?"

"Yes…and no. I said I would find you, but…" she sat down next to him. "I was wondering where you were, too."

"Well, I'm here."

Wanda nodded slowly. "So what do you think?" she asked quietly.

"I think…I can't think." Bucky answered honestly. "It's almost too much. And it makes me start to wonder…" he trailed off. "Never mind."

"Wonder _what_?" Wanda prompted. "I won't tell."

Bucky gave a half-smile. "What I'm gonna do with myself. I guess that's what everyone's been thinkin' about lately, what with Sam takin' classes and Steve doing research he doesn't think I know about— _punk_." he shook his head fondly. "I never wanted to be a soldier forever." He continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "But I dunno what I want to be now. Seems like fighting is the only thing I'm good for."

"No!" Wanda cried, almost more fiercely than she'd intended. "That's not true! You're the best with children and you fixed Clint's mower and I've never met anyone who could multiply numbers so fast…"

A slow, shy smile crept over Bucky's face at the praise. "Huh." he mumbled, almost bashful. "When ya put it like that…"

"Fighting is _not_ all you are good for." Wanda said firmly. "That is nothing but HYDRA lies. I don't know what else you can do with your life, but I am sure we will figure it out!"

 _…_ _together._

The word sat on the tip of her tongue, but she quickly cut it off, baffled at its arrival.

 _Where did_ _ **that**_ _come from?_

Bucky leaned on his side against the back of the wide-backed chair, biting his lip and looking so young, so different than normal.

"Here's something I haven't told anyone…not even Steve." he burst out.

Wanda leaned forward, flattered. There wasn't much that Bucky didn't tell Steve, after all.

"I…I remembered that when I was a kid, I joked my little sister about a book she was readin'. It had flowers on the cover; I said it was girly and stupid. My Ma—because she was amazing—she made me read the thing, as punishment. Said that if I was gonna make fun of something, I should know what I was making fun of."

Wanda wasn't quite sure where this was going, but she appreciated the anecdote. "Your mother sounds very smart."

"She was. But anyway, I read the book. And…it wasn't so bad. It was about…" he shut his eyes. "This couple…they open a school for the kids no one else will take, kids that had been through hell and back, bad families, no families. And they teach them. Teach them everything, about life…and I want that." He shut his eyes. "I caused pain on and off for seventy years. I'd like to make up for it by making pain go away. Have a place for kids no one else wants. Maybe here in the country, maybe in the City…"

"James Barnes' Home for Wayward Children." Wanda joked lightly.

Bucky turned bright red. "I know it sounds stupid…"

"No." Wanda took his hand. "I love it. It's perfect."

"Y-you mean it?"

"Of course! I don't lie…not to you, anyway."

It was an echo of the words she had spoken months ago and far away, after one of his 'unconditioning' sessions.

Bucky couldn't hold back the grin that spread across his face.

"Nah, I know you don't."

Starting over was never an easy task. Not for him, not for anyone.

But at last, night was breaking; this was the morning.

And morning was glorious.

* * *

 **Yay for everybody moving on with their lives and doing stuff they like!**

 **Okay, the homework drawing thing actually happened to me in I think first grade. My dad drew the picture, and my teacher did write some sort of compliment about the drawing on the graded worksheet. I still don't draw very well...but I'll always remember that memory.**

 **The book Bucky talks about is "Little Men," a sequel to Louisa May Alcott's better-known "Little Women".**

 **If you've never seen the movie version (or the play version) of "Fiddler..." go to YouTube and look up "Fyedka and Chava scene," and TELL ME that you can totally see Pietro as Fyedka. That scene is what gave me the idea for that whole subplot in the first place.**

 ** _Ohrabriti_ , _brate: "Courage, brother."  
_**

 **Tune in next time for everyone-gets-sick and Sharon-to-the-rescue. Also, Christy hits a major growing-up milestone. In the meantime...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'M ALLLIIIIIVVVVEEE! I LIIIIVVVEEE!**

 **Okay, dramatics out of the way, I really am glad to be back and posting. Sorry for such a wait! I got bogged down in schoolwork to the point where it felt like all my professors were in a conspiracy to kill me with projects and papers...**

 **But enough of that. You want the chapter!**

 **A WORD OF WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS FRANK (BUT I DON'T THINK GRATUITOUS) DISCUSSION OF A BIOLOGICAL PROCESS OF PUBERTY IN GIRLS. I TRIED TO WRITE THAT PART AS HONESTLY AS POSSIBLE WITHOUT BEING GROSS. IF IT OFFENDS ANYONE, I AM SORRY.**

 **And now, on with the story!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Everything started when Cooper came home from school with a runny nose, complaining that his throat hurt.

Laura had merely sighed, given him some Vitamin C and Sudafed, given Lila a precautionary dose of Vitamin C, and made a mental note to warn the others that Flu Season was now open for business.

Unfortunately, her warning traveled about as fast as the germs.

Despite the precautionary Vitamin C, Lila was showing flu symptoms within the next couple days. Next was Nathaniel, which sent a very worried Clint into town with the toddler to get him examined, since the flu was always more worrisome in young children. The doctor prescribed some anti-viral medication, but most of the symptoms simply had to be waited out. Clint himself finally succumbed, followed at last by Laura, who had held off getting sick until then by sheer willpower.

The twins came over to help out a few times, once Clint and Laura were both more or less incapacitated, and Steve had brought food, since he was the least likely to get sick. But even with everyone being very careful, germs still spread.

It was only a matter of time before sickness reached the Mansion.

* * *

"Dad, my head hurts."

Steve frowned; he hated it whenever Christy was in any kind of pain. "Then go take some Tylenol, baby."

"I did, almost half an hour ago. It still hurts. And my throat feels weird."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he glanced over at Sam, who along with Bucky was ensconced in the world of Monday Night Football. "Sam…you hear that?"

Sam sighed. "Steve, it's sort of inevitable. She saw Cooper the day he got sick, and the twins went down to help out with the kids a few times. She'll just take meds and let the thing run its course."

"Easy for you to say…" Steve mumbled, feeling slightly bitter. Sam had always been a healthy individual surrounded by other healthy individuals. He hadn't seen the deadly effect that illness could have on a person.

Bucky looked back at Steve. "It'll be alright, punk. Besides, even if we all get sick, you probably won't."

Steve's furrowed brow and worried eyes showed that the statement wasn't making him feel any better.

"Christy, go in my bathroom and check in the medicine drawer for Sudafed." Sam said. "I should have some cough drops, too. We can go out and stock up on medicine tomorrow."

Christy nodded and walked out of the room.

"Steve." Sam said, turning away from the TV and facing his friend. "I'm _not_ trying to be unsympathetic. I _know_ you used to get sick about as easily as most people _breathe_. And I know about your mom. But this is the basic _flu_ we're talking about. Not TB. Not pneumonia. Not scarlet fever or pertussis or whatever the hell else you caught." He locked eyes with Steve. "Understand?"

Steve gave a tiny nod.

"We'll be fine." Bucky echoed. "'Sides, you better save your strength; somethin' tells me you're gonna end up playin' nurse pretty soon."

Steve rolled his eyes at that. "If I'm playin' nurse, you're gonna be helpin' me, jerk. You've got serum, too."

Bucky shook his head. "It doesn't work like yours. Knock-off, remember? I heal quickly, but I still can get sick. Remember…remember when I came back?"

Steve nodded slowly. "You had a fever and your hair looked like something that crawled out from the sewers."

He was smirking a little, which Bucky considered a success. "It wasn't that bad!" he protested.

"Yes it was." Sam chimed in. "Matted as all he—get-out." he amended, as Christy came back into the room. "You find the meds okay?"

Christy nodded. "I took two pills like the box said."

"That should help clear up any sinus pressure. Take some more before you go to bed, and we'll see how this goes. I'd give you a Vitamin C packet, but I think we're out."

"We'll get some tomorrow." Steve promised.

"And some Coke? Coke is good when you're sick." Christy tried to sound nonchalant (and failed miserably).

Bucky snorted. "Barely even sick and she's already pitchin' a fit to get pop!"

"I'm not pitchin' a fit! I just like Coke!"

Steve grinned. "Now you're bein' honest. You got play rehearsal this week?"

Christy shook her head. "None of my scenes this week. Or Pietro's. I already asked."

"That's good at least."

Christy groaned a little. "I hate being sick. It's annoying."

Steve patted her head sympathetically. "I know, baby. Just be glad it doesn't happen all the time."

"I am. Promise. I guess I shouldn't be complaining…you always had it way worse."

A dark look settled on Bucky's face, as he had remembering flashes of those "way worse" times.

Steve settled a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Yeah, I did, baby. But you…" he trailed off, trying to find the words to express the flood of emotion inside him. "You weren't made for being sick, for lying still…"

Christy gave him a hug. "You weren't, either."

"Nobody likes being sick." Sam said diplomatically. "Maybe go to bed early tonight?"

Steve nodded in agreement. "And by _early_ , we mean nine o'clock. Not eleven. Or midnight."

Christy made a face. "I know what _early_ means."

"Coulda fooled me." Bucky muttered.

"I'm not the only one who stays up late. Pietro never goes to bed before midnight!"

"So you're taking cues from Pietro, now?" Steve asked.

Christy jumped over to the staircase with a dramatic flourish. "Welp, since I'm 'outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, out planned…' I'mma take a shower."

Steve snorted, catching the reference. "Good plan. Remember to take some more medicine before you go to sleep."

"Okay, I will."

As Christy walked up the stairs, rubbing at her head a little, Steve sighed.

The next week or so was going to be interesting. He could feel it.

* * *

 _No good deed goes unpunished…_

This was Wanda's sardonic thought, as she draped herself over the toilet, trying to discern if the nausea in her stomach had gone away enough for her to limp back to bed.

 _I try to be nice, help Clint and Laura out with the kids, and this is the thanks I get! 'Sick as a dog,' as Sam says…_

It seemed like her stomach had calmed down, so she started to rise, when another wave of nausea hit her.

" _Prestani…_ " she gagged out between spasms. There was nothing coming out of her mouth, anyway; the contents of her stomach were long since empty.

When her body settled down at last, she steeled herself and managed to stumble out into the hallway.

"You okay?"

She looked up and saw Bucky standing a few feet away, worry clouding his face.

"Not really…" she muttered, groaning a little. "I keep throwing up everything. And I feel disgusting."

"You still look beautiful." Bucky mumbled. Quickly, he added, "Want some help getting back to bed?"

"I think I…" Wanda's head throbbed and she suddenly felt ridiculously tired. "Maybe a little."

Bucky laughed softly and slipped a steadying arm around her waist.

"Is Pietro asleep?" she asked. Her brother had gotten really sick two days ago, around the same time she had.

Bucky nodded. "I just checked his room. He's sleepin' for now. Sam's finally decided to accept the inevitable and go sleep some, too. Steve's not sick, of course, not that I begrudge him being well…but he's not doin' great on the inside, if ya know what I mean. He's scared for Christy."

Wanda frowned. "Christy has a cold and a little fever. Not bad. She will be fine soon."

Bucky sighed. " _I_ know that. _You_ know that. Steve…knows it, but he's scared. And I can't really blame him. He watched his Ma get sick and die, and he couldn't do a thing about it. And we all…we all didn't worry so much at first. She was so invincible…"

"Oh…" Wanda whispered. That made sense. "I hope he stops worrying."

Bucky gave a humorless laugh. "And maybe the sun will stop shinin', huh?"

"And you? You are not sick?"

Bucky shrugged. "Not yet. I felt a little tired earlier, so Sam practically shoved Vitamin C pills down my throat. I know I _can_ get sick…I think I just get better faster? Zola didn't exactly explain all the side benefits of this serum before he pumped it into me."

"To be fair, they did not tell Steve either." Wanda pointed out.

"Yeah…" Bucky still didn't look pacified.

He led her into the room she shared with Christy and gently guided her onto the bed. Christy let out a moan and sat up in a tangle of blankets.

"How ya feelin', kid?" Bucky asked.

Christy's response was another moan.

"That good, huh?"

"My head hurts." Christy said, her voice dulled by clogged sinuses. "My throat hurts and my nose and I'm tired, and I _hate being sick_."

"Easy…" Bucky murmured, walking over to the girl's bed. "You'll be better before you know it…"

"No I won't!" Christy was half-screaming now. "I hate being sick! I hate it, I hate it, I _hate it_!"

" _Mače_ , it's alright…" Wanda started.

"Just leave me alone!" Christy cried, flopping over into her blankets.

Wanda's eyebrows flew up. Bucky gave a deep sigh and sat down on Christy's bed. The two locked eyes, both thinking the same thing.

 _Ten…nine…eight…seven…_

Christy could never let bad behavior rest for very long. She had told Wanda once that if she went without apologizing, it felt like she had a giant weight was on her chest.

Sure enough, Christy picked her head up a little and mumbled, "Wanda?"

"Yes, _mače_?"

"'M sorry. I dunno what's wrong with me."

"It's alright. You're sick. Everyone is feeling strange right now."

"I know you're feelin' pretty rotten, kid." Bucky said. "Just remember that no matter what you feel, you shouldn't spread that to others. Just 'cause _you_ feel bad doesn't mean you treat others bad."

Christy sniffled, whether from the illness or remorse, it was unclear.

Wanda pulled back the covers on her bed and thumped the mattress. "Come. And I will tell you the story of the time Pietro decided to give the orphanage cat a bath."

Bucky snorted and Christy even cracked a smile, but she looked at the bed dubiously. "Aren't you tired, too?"

"I need something to do. I am bored, and I expect you are, too."

"Okay." Christy got up and fumbled her way into the bed, snuggling up against Wanda.

"Are you guys thirsty?" Bucky asked. "You're supposed to be drinkin' water."

"I had a cup." Christy said.

"I had…some." Wanda echoed.

"'Some,' huh?" Bucky grinned, grabbing the two cups that each sat on a nightstand. "Be back in a second."

Wanda smoothed back Christy's hair, and started her tale. "We were about twelve years old, and the orphanage had a cat that hung around, to catch mice, you know. It caught the mice, but it didn't smell very good, so Pietro convinced some of the other boys that it needed a bath…"

* * *

Steve sat on the couch and buried his head in his hands. Late afternoon light flooded through the front windows, bathing everything in a soothing aura. But Steve's mind refused to be soothed.

Bucky was asleep. Sam was asleep. _Pietro_ , of all people, was asleep.

Everybody had been hit with this nasty cold-flu-fever thing except him. And ordinarily, he would be…alright with that. Of course, after twenty-seven years of catching nearly every illness on record, he would never enjoy seeing anyone he loved ill, but he could cope.

And then, Christy started coughing.

It wasn't _just_ her who was coughing, but for some reason, her coughs sounded particularly hacking, particularly loud…

 _"_ _Ma? Are you okay here?"_

 _Sarah Rogers gave her son a tired smile, as she sat propped up in a hospital bed. "I'm alright, Steve. I don't feel any worse…"_

 _"_ _Do…do they think you might get better?"_

 _"_ _I..." she paused, tears gathering in her eyes. "I don't know, baby."_

 _Steve groaned a little at the old childhood endearment. "Ma, I'm not a baby!"_

 _"_ _No…no, you're not. But you will always be my boy. I'm so proud of you…"_

Christy's coughing brought back haunting memories of his mother's battle with TB—ultimately a losing one. Neither of them had thought that anything was particularly wrong at first, but then the illness had gotten so bad, she'd been hospitalized. He'd been old enough to live on his own then, but the Barnes' had still looked out for him, and Bucky had practically moved in after that.

The awful sound of a cough drifted down the stairs, and Steve knew instinctively it was his daughter's.

 _It's alright…it's okay. Calm down. You know she's not that sick. You know it's not TB…_

Another cough sounded, loud and full of mucus. Steve froze, his heart thumping like crazy.

 _I can't…I can't lose her! I can't do it! I can't lose…_

In a blind panic, he grabbed his phone and slammed down the speed dial for Natasha's number.

"Nat?" he choked out, as soon as she picked up.

"Steve? What's wrong?"

"I…Nat, I can't, I can't lose her, any of them…"

"Steve, you're not making sense." Natasha's tone was low and soothing. "Get your thoughts in order. Tell me what's wrong."

"E-everyone's sick…"

"Yeah, Clint told me. It's just a flu, though, right?"

"Y-yeah, b-but everyone's sick except me, and Christy's coughing and it sounds like it's bad and I know it's not, but…"

"Okay." Natasha cut off his flood of words. "Okay, how about this? Bruce and I are going to drive out, now. We'll be there in an hour. He'll check everyone over, including Christy, and you can know for sure that everything will be okay. Does that sound good?"

"Y-yeah." Steve said, tight. "That'll work."

"Alright." Natasha sighed. "I'm gonna hang up now, Rogers. Are you by yourself?"

"Yeah, everyone else is asleep…"

"Go near someone. Watch them. See that they're not gonna disappear. We'll be there in an hour. You good?"

"I will be…"

"Close enough."

Natasha hung up the phone and went looking for Bruce. She found him in the Common Area, deep in conversation with Tony about something involving science. (Her brain was too focused to process anything more than that.)

"Hey, Bruce, you still got a med kit somewhere?"

Bruce looked up at her and grinned. "Always. Why, is there an emergency? I thought Clint and family were better."

"They are, but Steve just called. Apparently germs spread up the hill and everybody there is sick now. Steve sounded really…not okay. He was worried about Christy."

Tony snorted. "When is he not?"

"He said she was coughing and it sounded 'worse than it is,' whatever that means."

Bruce stood up. "I'll go get some supplies. You wanna head over now?"

"Yeah, I kinda promised him we would."

"Got it."

As Bruce headed off towards his room, Natasha drew out her phone and sent off a rather lengthy message. Tony looked over at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Matchmaking." Natasha said evenly, only the tiniest smirk on her face.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, so when _you_ do it, it's matchmaking; when _I_ do it, it's interference!"

"That's because you are the exact opposite of subtle, Tony. And subtlety is required when meddling in people's love lives." Natasha's smirk grew wider. "Sometimes, people just need a bit of a push."

* * *

"Steve?" Bruce called out as Natasha opened the door to the Mansion. (Because Natasha didn't need a key.) "Sam? Bucky?"

"In here!" Came Sam's voice, sounding weary and a little exasperated.

The two of them entered the room to find Sam sprawled out in bed, and Steve fidgeting in the recliner off to the side.

"Bruce." Sam said shortly. With a bit more kindness, he added. "Please explain to Steve that his daughter does not have tuberculosis."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "Uh…Steve, I can pretty much guarantee Christy doesn't have tuberculosis. Sam, how are you feelin'?"

As Bruce checked down Sam's throat and asked a few more questions, Natasha turned to Steve.

"So that's what this is about."

"I can't lose her, Nat." Steve whispered.

"Steve." Natasha reached out and grabbed his hand. "She's got a _cold_."

"She's never coughed like this before!" Steve argued, his voice rising in pitch.

"Okay, so maybe she's got a sinus infection. Either way, she'll get better."

"I know. I _know_. But I can't…"

"I'll go take a look at her right now." Bruce said, rising off the bed and grabbing his bag of miscellaneous medical supplies. "But I can promise you, it's probably not as bad as it seems."

"Listen to the nice doctor, Steve." Sam rasped out.

Steve glared at him, but the fierce expression quickly softened. "You feelin' any better?"

"Give me a couple more days." Sam said. "Now go on, go see your kid."

Forty-five minutes later, Bruce had checked over everyone in the house. Bucky was the least sick of the lot, with only a mild cough and lingering tiredness. Sam wasn't far behind him in recovery. Wanda and Pietro were both coughing and had clogged sinuses, but nothing really drastic.

As for Christy's cough, it wasn't a happy thing, but it was definitely _not_ tuberculosis. She did have a slight fever, though.

"Here, take some Ibuprofen and Tylenol." Bruce said, handing over one of each pill. "It works well when you take them together."

Christy grinned a little. "Pill cocktails."

From his mattress on the floor (because staying alone in his own room with little to do had only worked for so long) Pietro propped his head up and joked, "Does that make you a drug lord?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Not by a long shot, kid. Try to sleep if you can, Christy."

Christy groaned. "All I do is sleep."

"Well, there's a reason for that; your body needs to heal."

"I even miss doing school." she mumbled. Her eyes strayed over to where Steve stood in the doorway, face still a little pensive. "I'm gonna be okay, Dad. Promise."

Steve's face cleared. "I know, baby."

He was calmer now than he had been earlier. Bucky had explained some of the reasoning for Steve's near panic to Bruce, who had then been extremely thorough in examining Christy.

He hovered in the doorway as Bruce bundled up his med kit.

"Steve." Bruce said firmly. "Relax. I think Natasha's ordering dinner. Everyone is going to get better."

"Dad, come listen with us." Christy piped up. "We were listening to music earlier."

Steve rolled his eyes, but his shoulders settled down a fraction as he lowered himself to the floor by Christy's bed. "Would this music happen to come from a musical that starts with 'H' and ends with 'M' that my…that Sharon…"

"That _your girlfriend_ told you about?" Pietro said, enunciating the phrase carefully. He coughed slightly, but his smirk was firmly in place.

Steve blushed lightly. "Yeah. My _girlfriend_." he echoed, his voice tinged with the slightest amount of wonder.

"Hey! A miracle! He says it!" Pietro cried. He then promptly fell back on the mattress, coughing and groping for his glass of water.

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "It is _not_ Hamilton. I said no more of that music for now. Besides, I have _L'chaim_ stuck in my head, so we should listen to that."

"Nothing too bouncy." Bruce warned, exiting the room.

"Okay, so not _L'chaim_." Pietro said.

"Anything but _Chaveleh_." Christy mumbled. "That song is so depressing."

" _Sunrise, Sunset_." Wanda decided, having memorized most of the soundtrack titles, thanks to living on the same floor as both Christy and Pietro. She leaned over and clicked around on her laptop for a few minutes, until the strains of _klezmer_ music echoed from the speakers.

Pietro started tapping out a beat on his chest. Wanda leaned back against her pillow and sighed. Christy was humming; a sound that was much distorted through her clogged nostrils.

And Steve actually laid his head back and closed his eyes, remembering Bucky playing records for him when he was sick. It was one of the few pleasurable memories he had of those occasions.

If it took everyone getting sick for him to have this moment with people he cared so much about…then maybe it was worth it.

* * *

The next night, Steve was once more pacing the living room. Despite Bruce and Natasha's visit (which had been a _huge_ help), he still couldn't really relax. His nerves were tight and drawn, like before a fight, and his mind felt like it was careening off the edge of sanity.

Logically, he knew that everyone's health was improving. Emotionally…well, that was another story.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell suddenly rang.

Steve snapped nearly to attention and darted over to the door, quickly peeking through the window blinds. As he did so, his eyes widened with shock.

 _It can't be…there's no way…_

He slowly opened the door, and there stood the last person he had expected to show up.

(Though, in hindsight, it should have been _completely_ expected.)

"Sharon?" he said, disbelief coloring his tone.

Sharon, framed in the dim porch light, gave him a teasing smile. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Uh, no! I, uh…" Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't expecting anyone, honestly."

"Nat thought you might need some back-up, so she gave me a call." Sharon started to enter the house with her bag.

Steve muttered something that sounded like "I'm going to murder Nat." Sharon raised an eyebrow.

"Should I leave?"

Steve's eyes shot wide in horror and Sharon felt bad for even joking about such a thing. "Hey, hey; I'm kidding. I just drove for hours, I'm not leaving any time soon. I'm sure you could use some help. When's the last time you slept?"

"Um…" Steve bit his lip. "I mean, I slept a little bit earlier."

"I mean a real, long, through-the-night sleep. And, speaking of that, when's the last time you _ate_?"

"The serum…"

Sharon placed her index finger on his lips. "Don't tell me that the serum makes you able to not sleep or eat for longer. You are not immortal. You need rest and food." She paused. "Nat…mentioned you weren't doing so well mentally, that you were having flashbacks. Wanna tell me something about that?"

Steve froze, feeling like a trapped deer.

"It's alright if you don't want to. I just thought…I mean, dads worry about their kids, but they usually don't worry that they've got some incurable disease, particularly if it's the same one…"

Breathing heavily, Steve sank onto the couch, his eyes staring blankly into space. Sharon sat down beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Talk to me." she urged.

There was a long silence. Then, Steve began to speak in a low whisper that Sharon had to strain to make out.

"She came home from work with a cough. I didn't…we didn't think it was anything strange. She worked as a nurse; she'd usually pick up something. But then…" he glanced up at Sharon, eyes haunted. "She didn't _stop_ coughing. And when it had blood in it…we knew it was more than we could handle at home. She had to go to the hospital. They wanted to send her to a sanatorium, but…" Steve stopped, shaking his head ruefully. "Who the hell had money for that? Certainly not me. I could barely keep any kinda job and Bucky's family wasn't rolling in dough either…so that was it. There wasn't anything we could do. Nothing _I_ could do. And I know it's not the same, but when all the coughing started, all I could think was 'I can't lose Christy, I can't lose Bucky again, I can't…"

Steve's voice broke and his eyes squeezed shut, almost in pain. Sharon slowly looped her other arm around his side and pulled his head onto her shoulder. He let out a hitching breath into the fabric of her shirt.

"All I do is lose people." he whispered. "I can't do it again."

For a long time, Sharon didn't even try to speak. She just sat there, Steve's head perched precariously on her not-very-broad shoulder, and held him.

Finally, his head rose. His eyes were red and her shoulder was wet.

"I'm sorry." he said lowly. "You…you didn't need to see that."

Sharon shook her head. "Yes, I did."

Steve ducked his head down. "I can't believe I'm fallin' to pieces over somethin' that happened so long ago…"

"I can." Sharon grabbed his chin and made him look her in the eye. "I can, because if my many sources are correct, your common response to pain is to bury it, ignore it, pray it goes away, and focus on everyone else's problems. Am I right or wrong?"

Her tone was so reminiscent of Peggy's (or Nat's) that Steve blurted out the answer unthinkingly. "Right."

"Thought so." Sharon smoothed his hair back. "You know that's not healthy."

"I know."

Sharon cupped her hand around his cheek. "I'm not leaving you."

Steve gave a weary sigh and closed his eyes. "I am a little tired."

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came tromping down the stairs, loud and a little unsteady. It was Bucky, who always got woken up easily.

"Who's…" he started, before taking in Sharon. "Oh. Hey, Carter. You come to bail us out?"

Sharon only felt the slightest jolt of shock on being called by her last name—mostly because she had a distinct feeling that Bucky was hearkening back to interactions with _another_ Carter.

"More or less." she replied. "Nat called me up."

"Good old Tasha." Bucky mumbled, coming further down the stairs. "Want some help getting this punk to bed?"

Sharon smiled. "That would be nice."

"Buck…" Steve protested. But it was half-hearted, and he let Sharon guide him off the couch and over to the staircase.

"Don't 'Buck' me—you'd do the exact same thing if I was skippin' sleep!"

"Well, maybe…"

"Maybe, _maybe_." Bucky grumbled good-naturedly.

"I'm coming upstairs." Sharon said, walking behind the two men up the staircase. "You guys don't have a guest room, right?"

Both men stopped dead and gave each other looks of horror.

"I can sleep on the couch…"

"No, let me, she's my girlfriend and you're sick!"

" _Boys_." Sharon said, trying to hold back a laugh. "I appreciate the chivalry, but I'd rather not sleep in a sick person's bed." At Steve's noise of triumph, she added, "And Steve needs a good night's sleep. So I'll be taking the couch."

Both 'boys' gave long sighs. "Practical." Bucky muttered, as though the word was a curse. "Why you always gotta get the practical ones, Stevie?"

" _Always_?" Steve said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "As in the _two times_ I've been romantically successful?"

" _Go to bed_." Sharon enunciated. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Bucky gave a quick salute and an even quicker 'yes ma'am!' before lumbering into his room. Steve lingered, looking boyish and shy.

"Thanks." he whispered.

"No problem." Sharon replied. "Do you want...?"

Steve blushed. "M-maybe."

"C'mere, then." Sharon leaned over and kissed him on the lips. When they broke apart, she pressed another kiss to his forehead.

"Go sleep." she repeated. "I'll be here in the morning."

And with a lightness and security that he hadn't felt since his mother died, Steve turned into his room and pulled off his jeans and socks. He didn't even get to his shirt and boxers before he crashed headlong into bed, and surrendered to the world of dreams.

At last, he could start to believe that everything would be okay.

* * *

Christy stumbled into the bathroom a few mornings later feeling a lot better than she had in recent days. Her fever was gone, her cough was mostly gone, and her sinuses were much less clogged. After going to the bathroom, she stood up and turned around to flush the toilet, but as she did so, her eyes caught something strange.

Blood. Not a lot, but… _blood_.

 _In_ the toilet.

Immediately her heart rate sped up.

 _Okay…okay. This…this is that thing Wanda and Aunt Laura talked about. I'm okay. This is normal. I need, uh, that pad thing…_

But upon checking the bathroom cabinets, but there was no sign of any of the implements she saw Wanda use once a month.

 _Okay…so…toilet paper? I guess? And then ask Wanda where she…_

A knock sounded on the door, and Christy, so far inside her own mind, jumped back to reality and let out a tiny shriek.

"Christy?" It was Steve's voice. "Are you okay in there?"

"Dad?" Christy immediately cursed the sound of her voice; it was far too high and nervous—her dad would start panicking. "I…I need you to get Wanda. O-or Sharon. A girl. I need a girl! No boys!"

"Okay, baby." Steve's voice sounded calm—confused, but calm. "I'll go find one of them."

"Thanks!"

Steve raced down the stairs to find both Sharon _and_ Wanda talking in the living room, along with Bucky and Sam.

"Uh…" Steve faced the girls. "Christy…something's wrong. S-she's in the bathroom and she said she needs a 'girl'…"

Wanda's eyebrows shot up immediately. Sharon looked puzzled for a moment, and then gasped. "How old is she?"

"Eleven…" Steve said, voice almost cracking. "Why does that matter?"

"I got this." Sam piped up. "You two go take care of whatever needs doing."

Both girls nodded and ran up the stairs. Sam looked at Bucky.

"Do _you_ know what's goin' on?" he asked pointedly.

Bucky snorted. "I had three sisters, one of 'em younger than me. I think I got a pretty good guess."

"So what's wrong with her?" Steve cried.

" _Nothing's_ wrong with her." Sam said. "She's growing up."

"I know that, but why is she in the bathroom…?"

"Steve, c'mon, it was just you and your Ma in that apartment. What happens to girls of a certain age once a month that's a sign they're…grown up?"

Steve frowned for a long minute, and then his head snapped up in realization.

Bucky grinned. "Bingo."

Steve's face contorted into an agonized expression. "W-what do I do?"

Bucky and Sam gave each other a look. "Maybe ask Sharon or Wanda on that one." Sam said delicately. "From what I understand, every girl is different. But it is completely normal."

" _Completely_ _normal_?" Steve moaned. "My baby…"

 _My baby girl bleeding out of…_ _ **there**_ _. For a week, Ma said. A_ _ **week**_ _!_

"She'll be _fine_." Bucky said. "You got a tough kid, Stevie. I think the best thing is just let her know you're there for her—whatever she needs."

* * *

Sharon rapped on the bathroom door. "Christy? Can I come in?"

A scraping sound indicated that the lock was turning, and a tiny voice said, "It's open."

Christy was sitting on the toilet, her pajama pants already pulled up. "There weren't any…any of those things in here…"

"Any _pads_?" Sharon questioned gently. "You can say the word. It's not a bad word. It's something you need for a normal bodily process. You don't have to be ashamed."

"I-I'm not, it's just…" Christy looked down. "It's weird."

"I know, sweetie, but you get used to it, I promise."

Another knock sounded. "Can I come in?" Wanda called.

Christy nodded, so Sharon opened the door. "I brought pads." Wanda said, as soon as the door was shut. "You know what to do with them, right?"

"Yeah. Aunt Laura showed me a while ago. We had a talk."

"Thank God for Laura." Wanda muttered, as Christy opened the packet up and settled the item onto her underwear.

"H-how often do I have to switch it?"

Wanda and Sharon glanced at each other. "It really depends on how much blood." Sharon said honestly. "The first day, every time, it's usually not as much. The second and third day are heaviest, and the later days are less. I'd say for you every…three hours? Four?"

Wanda nodded. "If it feels disgusting, change it. If not, keep it for a little longer. It is up to you."

"Okay." Christy pulled up her pajama pants and looked down at the tile floor. "It hurts."

"That's called cramps." Sharon said. "Did Laura…she explained why this happens, right?"

"Yeah. Every month your body gets ready for a baby and if you don't have a baby, it gets mad and trashes your insides."

Sharon snorted. "Close enough. But, yeah, so there's blood. And it all has to come out. That's why it hurts a little. Just take some ibuprofen, and if you need something stronger, say so. Different people have different cramps."

Wanda handed Christy two little ibuprofen pills. "You also sometimes…feel more emotions. Your emotions are…crazy, because of…getting ready for a baby, and then no baby. So some people cry very easily or get angry over silly things…"

"Oh…" Christy said quietly. "Maybe that's why I was so upset the other day."

"Probably. But if you feel too much, you know you can come talk to me."

"Or call me." Sharon added. "I know I'm not around as much, but…I'd like to hear from you sometime."

Christy nodded. "I'd like that."

Sharon took a look at the other two girls and suddenly had an idea.

"Neither of you two are really contagious anymore, right?"

Wanda shook her head, and Christy echoed the motion.

"Okay. So here's the plan. We're all going to get dressed. Christy, wear your favorite outfit. And then, we're going to go into town to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Christy looked confused.

"You're growing up." Sharon explained. "It's a _good_ thing."

"That sounds like a nice idea." Wanda said, a strange catch in her voice.

Sharon glanced over at her, as a sense of realization filled her mind. "Where were you…?"

"Still in the orphanage. So the other girls explained. It was not as bad as it could have been." Wanda gazed off into space, her eyes locked in a thousand-yard stare. "Pietro got very protective after that. More than before. We left soon after. Boys were starting to notice…"

Sharon winced. "I think maybe you could use a celebration, too. As a make-up."

Wanda gave a tiny smile. "I'd like that."

"Then we'll make it a double celebration. C'mon, let's get dressed."

* * *

Several hours later, the three returned from a trip into town, happy and laughing. The boys were still lying around the living room.

Pietro, never one to beat around the bush, got up and gave Christy a kiss on the forehead. "Congratulations. You ever need something, I'll do it." He gave a theatrical bow, his right arm pressed against his chest in a not-quite-mock gesture of fealty.

Christy giggled a little, but nodded solemnly. "Thanks, Pietro."

"My little girl's growin' up." Bucky said, shaking his head in an exaggerated manner.

" _Your_ little girl?" Steve argued, as he gave Christy a hug.

" _Our_ little girl." Sam placated. "Who's not exactly little. She's almost as tall as me!"

Steve and Sharon slipped aside for a private conversation, while Bucky, Pietro, and Sam remained in the room. They were watching a marathon of Harry Potter that was on TV, yet again, so the girls joined in.

"She's okay?" Steve asked quietly.

Sharon nodded. "She was a little freaked out, but every girl is the first time."

"I…" Steve looked barely shy of frantic. "Does it hurt?"

"The actual blood, no. The cramps associated with the process, yes. Just let her have ibuprofen and use a heating pad if need be. She also might be a little more…volatile emotionally than normal. She might get upset over relatively minor things, or cry more readily. Those are both perfectly normal."

Steve nodded, trying to take everything in. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sharon smiled softly. "Just be there for her. Don't act like it's a disease if she mentions it. Let her complain and be honest about how it feels. Remind her that you love her and she's beautiful. Can you do that?"

"Yeah…" Steve gave another careful nod. "I think I can do that. I just…I just want her to be okay."

"With you for a dad? I think she's about as okay as she could be."

* * *

Later that night, Steve stopped Christy as she was headed into her room. "Can you come here for a second, baby? I got something for you."

"Okay…" Christy walked into Steve's room. "What is it?"

Steve rummaged around in his nightstand drawer. "I got it in Wakanda, before we left. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but…I think now is a better occasion."

He drew out a tiny jewelry box and Christy gasped as he opened it, showing off the beautiful necklace inside.

The chain was gold and so was the setting; the stone was a bright aquamarine blue, cut in the shape of a heart.

"The lady at the jewelry place said it's blue _crystal_." Steve said quietly, a smile lining his face.

"It's so pretty." Christy whispered. "I love it. Thank you, Dad."

"You're welcome, baby. Want me to put it on you?"

"Okay." Christy pulled her hair off her neck as Steve struggled to undo the tiny clasp (why did necklace clasps always have to be so _small_?). He finally got it undone and fastened the necklace around Christy's throat.

"It hangs right." she said, fingering the stone. "Some chains are too short or too long, but this is perfect." She hugged him, her arms reaching as far as possible around his waist.

Steve hugged back, a sea of emotion welling up inside him.

 _"_ _Is this the little girl I carried…I don't remember growing older—when did she?_

 _When did she get to be a beauty…when did she grow to be so tall…wasn't it just yesterday…she was small?"_

"When did you get so big?" he murmured. "Where's the little girl I carried of that foster care center, the one who stared up at the Tower with those big blue eyes…?"

"I'm still here, Dad! I just…changed. And…maybe that's okay? It's good to change, right? As long as you become someone better."

Steve sighed and let Christy untangle herself from around him. "Yeah. You're right, baby. It's okay to change."

It was okay to change. It was okay to let go. It was okay to both learn from the past, and leave it behind.

"I'm so proud of you." he whispered. "And I…I can't wait to see what you're gonna become."

Christy nodded, her mouth stretched the way it did when she was trying not to cry. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you." Steve echoed.

Love. Whatever came next, whatever new changes were thrown their way, they would weather the storms as they always did: together.

 _"_ _One season following another…laden with happiness and tears…"_

* * *

 **So...yeah. I can't believe I finally wrote this. I had the idea for Christy getting her period for a while now, but I didn't know if I would actually write it or not. But, after some thought, I decided it would be a good way to address that she's growing up, and to challenge myself to write about something delicate in a professional, honest way.  
**

 **Prestani- "Stop it" (Serbian/"Sokovian).  
**

 **Okay, so I have two more chapters planned out for this story, before I plan on wrapping things up. I will be participating in NaNoWriMo this November, so while I'm excited to actually work on an original novel idea, it means that between school and that, I won't have much time for fanfic. So I plan to wrap up this story as fast as I can, and then pick back up in December with some one-shots and possibly a Christmas anthology (because I LOOOVVVEEE Christmas. SO DANG MUCH.) That's the plan so far, if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to...well, _suggest_. ;)**

 **Tune in next time for Bucky and Wanda coming to some interesting conclusions and Christy learning why she doesn't want to go to public high school. (Or at least not Peter Parker's high school.) Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm back! And thankfully not after too long a hiatus! As a happy present for all my American readers on Election Day (mumbles incoherently under my breath) I present this chapter, with all the Bucky/Wanda feels and a special guest appearance by Peter Parker!**

 **I'm not sure which Spiderman characters will be in the new movie, so a lot of the characterization in a certain scene, and the name of Peter's school, is based on the animated _Spectacular Spiderman_ series.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

"'To life, to life; l'chaim! L'chaim, l'chaim; to life! It takes a wedding to make us say, let's live another day, drink, l'chaim, to life!"

Wanda leaned forward and thunked her head into her hands with a massive groan. "It's a good thing that they are practicing. It's a _good thing_ that they are practicing…"

Bucky, sitting across from her in the living room, laughed. "At least it's not _Hamilton_."

"Very true. But I swear, this song gets into my head at the _worst_ times!"

Pietro and Christy were upstairs practicing songs and dance moves, but the music easily drifted down the stairs. Add that to the fact that neither of them were exactly trying to be quiet, and it was a recipe for everyone in the house getting _Fiddler_ music stuck in their heads.

"'We'll raise a glass and sip a drop of schnapps in honor of the great good luck that's favored you! We know that when good fortune favors two such men, it stands to reason, we deserve it too!'"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "They're not even _trying_ to tone it down. I don't know how Sam's doing schoolwork with all that racket."

Wanda shrugged. "He goes in his room and listens to his own music. I'm more curious as to how Steve isn't bothered." She gestured over to the kitchen table where the man sat drawing.

Bucky laughed softly. "He's in another world. Drawing whatever's in his head. Nothing'll snap him out of that space in his mind until he's good and ready to come out."

"If you say so." Wanda leaned back on the couch. "I'm just glad everyone is better. It was a terrible week—almost two weeks!"

"Near enough. And yeah…it was pretty bad." Bucky glanced over at Steve briefly before looking back. "Haven't seen him so nervous since…ages. And you looked like you were about to keel over for a while there."

"I felt like it. But actually, that's not the worst I've been sick before."

Bucky winced. "Before or after…?"

"After." Wanda gave a self-deprecating half-laugh. "The winter before we volunteered. And part of the reason why. Pietro…I think he felt like his manhood was being challenged, us living on the street. He couldn't get a good job—neither of us could. To see him now…"

"I know." Bucky whispered. "It's like a dream. But I swear, if anyone deserves a good life, it's you two."

"And you." Wanda added. Bucky just shrugged, so she frowned and repeated her words. " _And you_. I thought we were past this!"

"You of all people should know that…it fluctuates. One day, you're alright; the next…not so much. It takes work to push away the voices…"

"Well…if you ever need help, you know where to find it."

"I do." Bucky smiled, some of the gloom falling out of his eyes. "I really do."

At that moment, Christy and Pietro came down the stairs, still singing (though at a much lowered volume) and headed into the kitchen.

"Uncle Bucky, what does schnapps taste like?" Christy asked.

Bucky's eyebrows shot up. "Uh…you wouldn't like it, kid. Why are you asking this?"

"'Cause of the song. Y'know, 'we'll raise a glass and sip a drop of schnapps in honor…'"

"Yeah, yeah, okay; we've been hearing it for the past hour, kid! Right, schnapps, it's…" Bucky shut his eyes trying to remember the last time he'd even _had_ schnapps. It wasn't like they were a bunch of teetotalers or anything, but Tony was the one with the really impressive alcohol collection.

"It sort of tastes like fruit and, ah…you know that alcohol you put on cuts?"

Christy nodded.

"Yeah, imagine that."

"Ugh!" Christy stuck out her tongue and made a face. "Why would anyone even _drink_ that? That's disgusting!"

The twins lost it and Steve came out of his drawing-induced solitude. "What's going on?"

"Your daughter is wondering why anyone would drink schnapps." Bucky answered, deadpan.

Before Steve could ask why or Christy could burst into song again, Wanda added, "It's mentioned in one of the songs and she was curious what it tasted like."

Steve's face slowly cleared in understanding. "You'd think it was gross, baby. It's definitely an acquired taste. Kinda like most alcohol in general."

Christy made another face. "I'm convinced grown-ups just drink gross stuff but don't wanna admit it's gross 'cause some people like it. Like that story about the king with no clothes on."

Pietro raised his eyebrow. "You read a story about a naked man?"

"No! Well, not like that. It's a fairy tale."

Wanda uncurled from her position on the couch. "I don't think I've heard this one."

"It's called 'The Emperor's New Clothes'. You can look it up. It's pretty funny."

Pietro tapped Christy's shoulder. "Come on, get a snack. I need to practice lines and you're a good Chava."

Christy sighed. "Can't you get Wanda to read the lines? We've been practicing for a while."

"I am not pretending to be in love with my brother." Wanda said flatly. "Sorry, _mače_."

"Okay, okay, fine; I'll read the lines. But only one scene."

"Have you done your schoolwork?" Steve asked. "You're going to the Tower this weekend, and we both know you won't be doing anything resembling homework."

"Yup, all done!" Christy said. "Plus extra. I finished it earlier." She grabbed a pack of peanut butter crackers out of the cabinet. "C'mon Pietro, time to practice you being a homewrecker."

"I'm not a homewrecker!"

"Well, your character kinda is…"

"It's not my character's fault that his girlfriend's family is so strict!"

"Girlfriend? She doesn't even wanna _talk_ to you in the first scene!"

The two headed back upstairs. Steve shook his head in amusement and went back to his drawing.

Bucky grinned. "Those two are ridiculous."

"Agreed." Wanda smiled a bit. "But I think it's good for him. He likes children and it…it gives him a chance to be what he couldn't. We had to grow up fast and he's…more carefree than I ever was. It was hard for him."

She glanced down at her hands and started twisting red tendrils, the way she did sometimes. It was as much a nervous habit as picking nails or twisting a ring. Her hair fell into her face and Bucky had the weirdest urge to move it back…

He was spared from his own thoughts by Wanda saying, "Christy is going to the Tower this weekend?"

Steve nodded. "Yup. It's…well, it's Halloween on Monday and she wanted to go trick-or-treat with her friends. And I can't blame her. Apparently Peter Parker's up at the Tower this weekend as well, so Tony offered…"

"Lemme guess, the only reason you said yes is because Pepper's gonna be there." Bucky drawled.

Steve gave a slightly guilty smile. "Bruce is going too. He offered to be a chauffeur."

"What are they dressing up as?" Wanda asked.

Steve rolled his eyes, and his smile turned fondly exasperated. "Apparently in _Hamilton_ …"

"Oh, God." Bucky muttered.

"Apparently the actors of three main sisters in the play look somewhat like her, Sienna, and Tally. And naturally, all of them like the music…"

" _Naturally_." Wanda interjected.

"Sienna's mother is a really good seamstress and she made costumes for all three girls."

"Seriously?" Bucky cried. "You're sending compensation money, right?"

"Of course! But, well, they're gonna be the Schuyler Sisters for Halloween."

Wanda, meanwhile, had been googling pictures on her phone for a reference. "Oh, they'll be so cute. Someone is getting pictures, yes?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Regina Jackson—Tally's mom—is the _queen_ of pictures. There'll be plenty, especially 'cause they're doing the actual trick-or-treating in the Jackson's neighborhood. But that's Monday. She's gonna leave Friday morning with Bruce."

"So long?" Bucky asked.

"Well…I figured, she's kinda growing up." Steve shook his head. "I think it might be good for her. Spending the weekend with someone else when it's _not_ a crisis situation. I feel like every time she goes away, it's because we have to do Avenging. She already…gets separation anxiety easily. Because of her mom. But I don't want her to associate being away from home with something negative."

"You've been talking with Sam." Wanda said, approval filling her voice.

Steve shrugged. "Sam knows his stuff."

"Amen to that." Bucky said fervently.

"And, it'll be nice for her to see her friends." Steve added. "She goes way too crazy when she's confined to one set of people."

Wanda nodded. "That is _definitely_ true. I thought she would lose her mind when she was sick. Sharon came just in time."

"In more ways than one." Steve whispered, his lips moving up slightly.

Bucky mimed throwing up. "Alright, lover boy, cool it!"

"Cool what? I barely said anything!"

Wanda sighed loudly and stood up. "I think I will see what the _actors_ are doing. It's strangely quiet up there—that never means _anything_ good."

* * *

Bucky lay on his bed later that afternoon, trying desperately to figure out what the heck was wrong with him.

It started with that weird feeling he'd gotten with Wanda earlier…but that wasn't the first time he'd felt such a thing, either.

 _Stomach feels like I'm gonna be sick, getting embarrassed over every little thing, feeling like all I wanna do is keep talking to her forever._

He'd felt like this on and off, ever since Wakanda…maybe even a little bit before. At first he'd brushed it off as him being unused to talking with girls of any type. But Natasha didn't make him feel like this, and definitely not Pepper or Sharon…

Suddenly, a combination of shock, horror and fear slammed into him like a semi-truck.

 _No…no, no, no, this can't be what I'm thinking…it's just…_

But the idea, however ludicrous, wouldn't leave his mind.

 _I love her._

His heart was pounding away at a thousand miles an hour and he couldn't _breathe_ …

"What…" he whispered. "What the _hell_ …where did that…?"

His whole body was flooded with about ten different strange emotions and the world felt like it was spinning around him.

 _I can't…there's no way. Yeah, I like talking to her and she's nice and she's kinda the reason I'm not a walking time bomb anymore and she gets what it's like to be viewed as a threat and oh, God, I_ _ **do**_ _love her!_

He took a few deep breaths and tried to steady himself. One clear thought remained in his mind, though.

There was no way he could handle this on his own.

Before the war, before HYDRA, before everything, he had been a charmer. A ladies' man. And a little too cocky for his own good. But that was _before_.

Now, faced with the prospect of actually wooing someone he _liked_ and _respected_ and _enjoyed being around_ …

He needed help. Lots of help.

 _Steve's just as clueless as me, I can't let Pietro know_ _ **anything**_ _, Sam might be good, but he's single right now, so who…?_

At last, an idea clicked in his mind.

 _I'll go ask later, when everyone's winding down for the night. I hope he doesn't laugh…_

He breathed out again, but even that couldn't keep the giddy, stupid grin off of his face.

 _I love her…_

Then the grin faded, as reality began to set in.

 _There's…there's no way. She's too young! I don't even know if she likes me back! And if she does, wouldn't that just make things awkward and strange, and…?_

His stomach now felt an entirely different type of queasy.

 _I need help…_

* * *

Later that night, there was a knock on the Barton's door. The kids were all asleep, and Clint and Laura were in bed.

Laura looked over at her husband. "Can you get that?"

Clint nodded and rolled out of bed. "Got it."

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver."

Clint leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I aim to please."

He padded out into the living room and walked to the front door, wondering who on earth was ringing their doorbell so late.

Upon opening the door, all he could do was stare bemusedly at Bucky, who stood on the porch with a panting, wild-eyed expression. "Can I…help you?"

"Clint…" Bucky hissed, sounding… _terrified_? "I think I have a problem."

Clint barely refrained from cracking up. Steve had the same way of getting wrapped around the axle over relatively minor things that turned out to be no big deal. Maybe it was a super-soldier thing.

"Isn't that kinda old news, Barnes?"

Bucky looked exasperated now. "This is a _new_ problem!"

"Another one? Jeez, you people are trouble magnets. I should find some different friends."

Bucky's face got even more exasperated, until it looked like he was about to explode.

Clint sighed. "Okay, okay. Come in. You want a beer? Coffee? A slap to the face? You look like you could use a combo of all three right now…"

It wasn't until they reached the kitchen and sat down that Bucky dared to speak again.

"I…I think I'm in love." he mumbled.

Clint's eyebrows shot up. "With _who_?" he cried. "What single girl have you even _talked_ to in the last two years…" he trailed off, the confusion in his voice being replaced by shock. " _Wanda_?!"

"Shh!" Bucky cried in a strangled whisper. "Not so loud."

"Okay." Clint lowered his own voice. "Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know. Maybe if I whisper, the feeling will go away!"

"Do you want it to?"

Clint's question pierced through Bucky like one of the archer's arrows. "I…I don't know. I don't think so. But she…"

He looked down at the table, cheeks burning red. "She'd never want me."

Clint snorted. "Never say never, my friend." His eyes strayed to a family picture that hung on the fridge. "'Cause that's usually when the never happens."

"But I'm a…" Bucky stopped again. "I've killed people. Men, women, kids—in cold blood. I don't deserve…"

"If we got everything we deserved in life, we'd all be screwed." Clint cut in. "And we've all killed people." He gave a bitter smile. "That just comes with the job description."

"I'm too old for her."

Clint frowned. "She's twenty-two, now. And you're…what, thirty, more or less?

"Yeah, somethin' like that. I-I'm not really counting at this point."

"Eight or nine years isn't a terrible gap. And she's pretty mature for the age she is." Clint bit his lip, thinking. Finally, he nodded. "I could see it. Given time and a few other factors. Do you think she knows? Or…reciprocates?"

"I don't know. I don't wanna ask and screw everything up. We live in the same house and if she says no…" Bucky was looking agitated again.

Once more, Clint held back a laugh.

 _Most feared assassin of the Cold War, freaking out like a love struck teenager…still, he does have a point._

"Leave it to me, Barnes." he said, standing up and giving Bucky's shoulder a consoling thump. "Leave it all to me."

"Oh, great, now I'm terrified." Bucky mumbled, but there was a look of gratefulness in his eyes.

"I'll talk to Laura…she can talk with Wanda. Sound her out and try to gauge her feelings."

"Right. Okay. Thanks…"

There was one thing Clint was curious about, though. "Why come to me? Why not Steve or Sam?"

Bucky snorted. "Steve's as clueless as me when it comes to romance, and Sam…I think he'll be the next to know. But I thought maybe, since you're already married and all…and, you are basically her dad now."

"Are you asking for my blessing? 'Cause you know I'm not in charge of who she dates." Clint smirked. "She's big enough to handle her own love life."

"You don't have _control_ , sure, but she trusts you a lot. She…she wouldn't date someone you thought was a scumbag."

Clint snorted. "Well, trust me, Barnes. I _don't_ think you're a scumbag."

" _Thanks_." Bucky drawled. "Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

Despite the sarcasm, he felt about a thousand pounds lighter. Clint didn't think he was crazy; Laura could talk with Wanda…

Maybe this whole thing _wouldn't_ end terribly after all.

* * *

"Ah, no!" Peter exclaimed, standing up from his seat in the lab.

Christy, sprawled out on a ratty couch that Tony kept in his lab (for reasons), Bruce, and Tony himself all looked at him.

"What's wrong, champ?" Tony asked.

Peter's head was slumped into his hands. "I left my math book at school, and I have homework due Monday!"

"Alright, no need to panic." Tony grabbed his tablet. "What's the book called?"

"Uh…it's blue? With…shapes on the front?"

"Maybe it would be better if he just goes and gets it." Bruce said, checking his watch. "It's only around four. The building should still be open, right Peter?"

"Uh, y-yeah, they always have football practice, so the gym door should be unlocked. I can get in that way." Peter's anxiety was rapidly depleting in the face of sane advice. "I have my subway pass, so I can get there and back easy…"

"I can have someone drive…" Tony offered, but Bruce cut him off.

"It's near rush hour, Tony, on _Friday_. Traffic will be _murder_. Just let him take the subway."

"Fine, you're right."

"Can I go with you?"

All eyes swiveled to Christy, who was listening in with great interest.

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You wanna go to my high school? Why?"

Christy shrugged. "I've never _been_ in a high school before. Or a middle school. I wanna see what it's like."

"Hell on earth, that's what it's like." Peter muttered. "Uh, I mean, th-there's not much to see…"

"Well, I'll decide that! Are you embarrassed to be seen with a _little kid_?"

"No!"

"So why can't I go? I have a subway pass, and it still has money on it. I just wanna see it."

"I…I don't have problems…" Peter looked at Tony and Bruce.

"Text your dad." Bruce said to Christy. "If he's alright, I don't have an issue."

Ten minutes and a text from Steve later, Christy and Peter headed out into the rapidly darkening afternoon.

"There really isn't much to see at my school." Peter reiterated, as they descended into the subway stop. "And it'll be pretty deserted."

"I know. But I wanna see it anyway." Christy slid her subway pass into the turnstile. "So how's…y'know…S-p-i-d-e-r…"

"Uh, he's…good." Peter trailed off. "He's causin' me headaches sometimes, but he's good." He lowered his voice. "I can't believe Mr. Stark told you to carry a knife _and_ pepper spray."

"It's not a big knife. And…I'm getting older. Anything can happen in New York, especially when you're a girl."

Peter winced. "Yeah, I've…had some run-ins with a few seedy characters. I don't blame you for being cautious. It just seemed a little…excessive."

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't actually _use_ the knife…it's more for intimidation. I know too many good chokeholds to waste the opportunity on a _knife_. Besides, the basic thing of fighting is defense. You're trying to make the other person _not wanna fight you_."

Peter grinned, recognizing Natasha's words. "That's right. Natasha teach you anything else?"

"Lots." Christy grinned, looking slightly feral. "Lots and lots. Apparently I'm going to be scary when I'm older."

"I think you're scary _now_ , kid!"

They made light conversation until the subway reached the stop near Peter's school. They got out of the station and up into the cold of the street. It was only a couple blocks of walking before they reached Midtown Manhattan Magnet High School.

"So…how come you live in Queens but go to school in Manhattan?" Christy asked, as they walked around trying to find an open door.

"It's 'cause this is a magnet school." Peter replied. "It's a lot better than the school near where I live. I had to take an entrance exam to get in here, but…well, that wasn't so hard."

"So…like private school?"

"Not exactly. It specializes in science…and football. They recruit a lot of kids from all across the boroughs…hah!" Peter exclaimed, as he finally located an open door. "C'mon, let's go!"

They found Peter's locker in short order. Christy was looking around at everything. "So you switch classes?"

"Yup. Four blocks this semester, four next. Lunch break in between. Ah-hah, here you are!" He pulled a blue math book out of the locker and shoved it into his backpack. "Okay, that's it. Unless you want the grand tour?"

"Maybe just a little…"

Peter sighed. "I'll show you some of the highlights. One pick for you, one pick for me."

After peeking into the drama room, and then the lab (both of which were pretty dark and deserted), Christy decided she'd had enough of "high school".

"I can't imagine being stuck in here all day…" she muttered.

"Rainy days are pretty bad." Peter admitted. "But it's not all terrible. I like Biology and English is fun sometimes…"

"Well, well; if it isn't Puny Parker."

Peter stopped dead, instinctively pulling Christy behind him. " _Damn…_ " he groaned.

"Language…" Christy hissed.

"Trust me, these guys are swear-worthy!" Peter hissed back. He looked up to find none other than Flash Thompson and Kenny Kong (one of his cronies) blocking their exit.

" _Flash…Kenny_ …nice to see you…look, I'm on my way out, so if you could just go on your way…"

"Your name is _Flash_?" Christy asked, her tone laced with a large amount of sarcasm. "What, do you keep losing your pants?"

"Christy, please, just shut up…" Peter started. But Flash pounced like a cat on a mouse.

"Who's this, Parker, your girlfriend?"

"Gross, man, she's in middle school!" Peter howled. "Look, we're leavin', just let us by, okay?"

"Sorry, but I don't think that's an option…" Flash stopped mid-sentence. Christy was moving out from behind Peter's back and closer to the brawny football players. "What are _you_ doing?"

Christy shrugged nonchalantly. "Finding a tactical advantage."

If he wasn't so stupefied, Peter would have face palmed.

Flash's sneer turned into a look of confusion. "Uh…what?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are those words too big?" Christy muttered. "How did _you_ get into a magnet school?"

Flash's sneer returned. "Look, pipsqueak…" he moved forward threateningly.

Christy shot out her leg and nailed the boy in the kneecap.

Flash _shrieked_ , and Christy grabbed Peter's hand. "C'mon, c'mon…"

"Not so fast…" Flash snatched Christy by the hair. Kenny latched on to Peter's arm.

Christy screamed, and then went carefully limp, the way Natasha had shown her.

 _When he gets distracted, I can break loose!_

"Let _go of her_." Peter yelled, twisting in Kenny's grip. Everything looked about to get very ugly, when suddenly, a loud voice cut through the confusion.

"Flash? Kenny? You're beating up girls now? You know you could get suspended off the team if Coach catches you again."

Flash rolled his eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, Jackson. You gonna tell?"

"No…I'mma knock you unconscious and haul your sorry ass into Coach's office. My word against yours. Who's he gonna trust more?"

Christy had gone very still as soon as the other boy had made an appearance. Finally, she whispered, "Damian?"

Damian Jackson whirled at the sound of his name. " _Christy_?" he said, eyebrows getting higher. "How in the…never mind. And Parker, _again_?"

Peter shrugged. "We were just tryin' to leave…I forgot my math book."

"Nerd." Kenny muttered.

"No, he's _not an idiot_." Damian stressed. "Meanwhile, you two are one step away from academic probation."

"My grades are fine!" Flash proclaimed.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I'm in English with you, man, and I _saw_ you cheat on that test. And maybe I told Ms. Chambers after class…"

Flash paled. "You..."

Damian shrugged elaborately. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. Anyway, we're leavin'. Unless you wanna get beat up by a girl even more…"

At that, the larger boy swung one arm around Peter, the other around Christy, and sauntered casually out of the building.

"Those two are chumps. Bunch 'a hot air." he said.

"Easy for you to say." Peter said. "You're not their main target."

Damian sighed. "I bail you out when I can, Parker, I can't be everywhere at once. But what I really wanna know is, how the heck do _you_ know _Christy_."

"He's got a weird internship with Uncle Tony." Christy said.

Damian crossed his arms. "Weird internship like…science weird? Or…your family weird?"

"My family weird."

"He knows?" Peter asked.

"His sister's my best friend." Christy explained. "We go _waaay_ back."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I expected to see you Monday all dressed up for Halloween, not on Friday trying to start a fight."

" _They_ were trying to start a fight; _I_ was trying to end it!"

"Yeah, well, next time…" Damian shut his eyes. "Yell for help, okay? You probably could take 'em, but…I don't wanna explain to my mom or your dad that you got beat up."

"There isn't going to _be_ a next time." Peter said firmly.

"Yeah…I don't think I like public school…" Christy said quietly.

Damian smirked. "Get home, you two. See you in class, Peter. Christy, I'll tell Tally hi for ya, yeah?"

Christy nodded. Peter gave a half wave of acknowledgement as they turned away.

"We are _so_ lucky he showed up." Peter muttered.

"Agreed…" Christy whispered back. "He was pretty cool back there."

Peter laughed. "Yeah…I'd bet Flash did cheat on that test. So you're friends with Damian's sister?"

"Uh-huh. Tally was in the same foster care center as me. We got really close."

"I bet. So she got adopted, too?"

"Yeah…I like her family. They know…some of the secrets. Y'know, Avengers stuff."

"Well, I'm glad he came around. He kinda…bails me out sometimes."

Christy nodded. "How come they don't like you?"

Peter laughed harshly. "Uh…I exist? Beats me. They're like predators—they pick on the ones they can afford to pick on."

"But don't you have…" Christy glanced around and lowered her voice. "Spider powers?"

"Yeah, but I can't just start showing 'em at school! I'd be getting questions right and left! I gotta just…be the me I was before I got these powers. Nerdiness and all."

They walked into the subway stop in silence. Finally, Christy asked, "Did I ever tell you I finished the song?"

Peter looked confused. "What song?"

"Your song! Y'know… 'Spider-man, Spider-man…'"

"Oh, that one! Uh, no, you didn't."

Christy grinned. "It goes like this. 'Spider-man, Spider-man, does whatever a spider can. Spins a web, any size, catches thieves just like flies—look out! Here comes the Spider-man!"

Peter laughed. "Hey that's pretty good…"

"Oh, I'm not done! 'In the chill of night, at the scene of the crime! Like a streak of light, he arrives just in time! Spider-man, Spider-man, your friendly neighborhood spider-man. Wealth and fame, he's ignored, helping is, his reward! Life is a great big bang-up, but wherever there's a hang-up, you'll find the Spider-man!'"

Peter _stared_. He could feel his cheeks flood with embarrassment. "You actually wrote that?"

"Yeah. I was bored one night."

"Well, uh, th-thanks." He croaked out.

"You're welcome." Christy flung her arm up around his shoulders. "You're a hero, you know. Just 'cause those bullies are stupid…it doesn't mean you're not a hero. Dad and everybody…they help with the big problems. But you do little stuff. And I kinda think it's the little stuff that's most important."

In his mind, Peter could see the grateful look of the store owner whose shop he'd saved from being robbed. And the lady he'd saved from a mugger. And the…

Strong emotion welled up in his chest.

 _What I do_ _ **does**_ _matter…_

"Thanks." he said again, returning Christy's hug. "I needed that."

Flash and his buddies could do their worst. But no matter what, he _was_ the Spider-Man.

* * *

" _What_ happened?" Steve cried, praying that the slightly bad Skype connection was making him hear things.

"We went to get Peter's math book because he forgot it at school, and I wanted to see a high school, and we ran into bullies. And apparently Damian goes to school there, so he helped us out."

"Wait, Damian _Jackson_? Tally's brother?"

"Yeah. But we woulda been okay."

Steve leaned forward and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt the beginnings of a headache pulse in his temples.

"C-captain? Steve? I-it was all my fault…I'm so sorry…" Peter started.

Steve sighed. "Son, don't start. I highly doubt anything was your fault. But where were the teachers?"

"It's after school and Friday, so most of them had gone home. These guys were there for football practice. The coach is a good enough guy, but he can't be everywhere at once…and Flash is popular."

"That's the most idiotic excuse I've heard in my life!" Sam yelled. It took a lot to get him angry, but people pushing their weight around was high on that list of things. "Somebody should be in charge of the hallways!"

"I'm callin' the school on Monday." Tony said, peeking into the camera. "A little notoriety from yours truly can't hurt."

Bucky huffed, and muttered something that sounded like, "finally found a use for your fame".

"But, Christy, you're okay, right?" Steve asked. "They didn't…they didn't hurt you?"

"He was kinda scary and he pulled my hair, but other than that, I'm okay."

"You sure?"

Christy nodded. "I'll be okay. I'm stronger than idiots with muscle."

Steve couldn't help but smile at that. "I know you are. Peter, same for you?"

Peter jerked to attention. "Uh, yeah, yeah; I'm fine." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "It's…kind of a common thing for me."

Steve nodded, the look in his eyes sympathetic. "Hang in there, Spidey. We'll see if we can't do something to help you out."

"Th-thanks…"

"Our pleasure." Bucky drawled. "Completely."

"Other than that, Rogers, your kid's still in once piece." Tony added. "No broken bones, no bleeding…"

"Glad to hear it." Steve said.

Christy shifted. "Where's Wanda and Pietro?"

Sam laughed. "Clint's doing some sort of camping thing with the kids, and Pietro got roped into it."

"I don't think that took much roping." Christy said, deadpan.

"Yeah, not really. And Wanda's having some sort of girls' night with Laura."

"Oh, okay." Christy focused on her dad's face. "I'm really all right, Dad."

"I know." Steve gave her a half-smile. "I trust you. I just don't exactly want you picking up all my old bad habits."

"You mean like jumping into fights all the time because people won't be quiet in movie theaters?"

Steve rolled his eyes. " _One time_ , that was _one time_."

"But oh what a time it was…" Bucky muttered.

"Okay, if you need anything else, call me. I'm gonna sign off for now."

"Gotcha." Christy blew a kiss at the camera. "Night!"

"Night, baby."

They hung up. Steve sat back and shook his head. "Of all the things…"

"It sounds like she handled herself pretty well." Sam consoled.

"No, of course she did. She did great. It's just…it's starting to hit."

Bucky frowned. "What is?"

"I…she can be the best that she is…and I still can't…keep her away from everything bad."

Sam snorted. "I think every parent has to figure that out eventually. My mom's said something like that before."

Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Look. I haven't been a parent yet, but I have looked after you, which is the next closest thing."

" _Jerk_ …" Steve hissed.

"So tell me I'm lyin'! But anyway, point is, you're right. You _can't_ keep everything bad away from her. All you can do is teach her to stand on her own."

"I know…"

"And I think you've done a pretty good job of that so far!"

Steve cracked a smile. "Thanks, jerk."

"Anytime."

* * *

"This was a wonderful idea." Wanda said, swirling the last few sips of hot chocolate around in her mug. "I forgot how nice it is to not have boys around. Not that I don't like _our_ boys, it's just…"

Laura laughed. "Trust me, I understand. I wish we could have you and Pietro in the house full time…but late fall isn't exactly the right time to start a house renovation."

Wanda nodded and gave a fake shiver. "Speaking of cold, I wonder how Clint and Pietro are handling the children?"

"Decently well, I think. I haven't heard any screams recently…" Laura craned her neck towards the back door. Clint had set up a tent not far from the house, for the "semi-not-annual Barton family camping trip". Even Nathaniel, after being bundled up in about three layers of clothing plus blankets, was in on the act.

Laura, however, was not keen on the idea of sleeping outside in the freezing October cold. So she had let Clint spearhead this one and invited Wanda over for a girls' night.

This also presented the perfect opportunity for discussion of a certain subject…

"No, no screams." Wanda drained her mug and set it on the coffee table.

"So how have you been lately, sweetheart? You're over the cold, right?"

"Yes, I think so. No more coughing, no more fever…I was pretty bad for a bit." She smiled a little. "Bucky had to help me back into my room once. I almost fell over."

Laura gave her arm a sympathetic pat. Inside, she was cheering at the opportunity now presented.

Clint had mentioned his conversation with Bucky that night, after the man had left. Personally, Laura had very few qualms. Wanda was a little young, but no one was talking about marriage yet, and Bucky…well, Laura had no problems with him. As far as she was concerned, the two of them deserved love and happiness after the shambles made of both their lives.

Wanda twisted her fingers, letting tiny red tendrils flow between them. "Laura?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"How…how did you know that Clint…"

Laura's heart gave a leap. _Oh, come on, could it really be that easy?!_

"Yes?" she coaxed.

"How did you know you liked Clint?"

Laura smiled. "Well…I liked him from the time I met him. We were in a coffee shop and he tripped near my table."

Wanda laughed in shock. "He _tripped_? _Hawkeye_ tripped? I bet Natasha didn't let him forget that!"

"No, she gave him absolute hell. In his defense, the floor _was_ slippery, and he claimed later that it was a few days before he was due to leave on a SHIELD mission and he was distracted."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'm sure."

"Anyway…so I knew he was a nice guy. He was friendly and polite, which is always a plus, and he let me wipe coffee off of his face. I knew he was someone I wanted to see again. We got talking after he took a spill…we stayed in that coffee shop for hours."

"Aww." Wanda smiled. "That's sweet."

"But I knew that I liked him—more than a friend…it was after he came back from a mission. He'd told me something about working for a government organization, but…he was late. He'd promised to contact me the day he got back…and I didn't hear from him for almost a week after that date. I was terrified. All I could see was him dying somewhere, alone…" she shook her head. "It sounds pathetic, but that was when I really started to evaluate what my feelings were towards him. And…it was more than a friend. I realized that whatever I did with the rest of my life, I wanted him there with me. And honestly? I don't have any regrets."

Wanda looked up from the twisting red light in her hands. "I…It's strange. I don't have much experience with…romance. There wasn't time, in Sokovia. And…there wasn't anyone I respected, either. Pietro was the loud one, the one who attracted all the girls. No one seemed interested in me…interested in the _right_ way, I mean."

Laura nodded. "I understand."

"Here, I was training and adjusting and trying to decide what I wanted to do with myself. Besides being an Avenger. And then there was the Accords and Wakanda and the unconditioning…"

"Is that what you called it?"

"Yes. Sam's idea. But in the middle of all that…there has been someone I can't stop thinking about."

"Yes…"

"And…it's silly." Wanda's face turned faintly red. "He wouldn't…we're friends."

"Is this...Vision?"

Wanda jerked in shock. "Vizh?" she shook her head. "No…I love him, yes, but it's not that kind of love. He…he is the friend I could speak to about anything."

"I see." Laura paused. "It's not Steve, is it?"

Wanda actually laughed. "No, no! Besides, he and Sharon are too adorable. No, it's…" she lowered her head. "It's Bucky."

Laura steeled herself against the grin that was forming on her face. But apparently her efforts were in vain, because Wanda cried, "You knew?"

"No, I didn't…well, not your side. But apparently Clint spoke with Bucky earlier this week…"

" _He_ knows?"

"No, but he does…reciprocate your affections. Quite a bit, actually. Clint told me he was almost panicking, wondering what to do."

"He would be." Wanda's voice was low and faint. "He hides it, but he still thinks…thinks he's not worth it. For certain things."

 _Romance would certainly be high on that list of things…_

Laura took her hand. "So what are you thinking?"

"I…I don't know!" Wanda gave a half-laugh. "I can't think! He…likes me? Me? With my weird red magic and my _wonderful_ body count…"

"Stop _right there_ young lady!" Laura cut her off. "I can tell you he doesn't care about either of those things, and neither do we! You're a wonderful person, and I can see _easily_ why he'd fall for you."

Wanda dropped her gaze. "Really?"

"Really. I promise."

"Wh-what should I do?"

"Best advice? Talk to him. Don't wait around. Figure out what both of you are feeling and looking for. And…go from there."

Wanda gave a tiny nod. "I should talk to him."

"Yes, I did just…"

"Now." Wanda stood up from the couch. "It's not too late…"

Laura checked her phone. "Only nine-thirty. If you want to..."

"I want to." Wanda leaned over and gave Laura a hug. "Thank you, Mom."

"Oh, sweetie, you're welcome." Laura could feel her heart swell, the way it always did whenever one of the twins called her that. "Go ahead."

Wanda dashed out the front door and fairly sprinted up the hill. Laura took her phone and shot Clint a text.

 _Mission accomplished. Results favorable._

Meanwhile, Wanda flung open the door to the Mansion. Sam was sitting in the living room.

"Sam…is Bucky still awake? I have…something to ask him."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, but he calmly nodded and called up the stairs, "Hey, Barnes? Can you come down?"

Under his breath, Wanda could swear she heard him mutter, "About dang time."

A door slammed shut and Bucky appeared on the stairs. As soon as he saw Wanda, his face went slack.

"H-hey…" he muttered weakly, walking into the living room. "You…you want somethin'?"

Wanda edged a little closer. "I want to talk."

"D-did Laura…'cause if you don't…" Bucky was cut off mid-sentence by a light kiss on his cheek.

"We should talk." Wanda repeated, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Come outside with me?"

Bucky nodded, a giant grin spreading across his face, and together, they walked towards the door.

* * *

 **And thus, IT IS DONE! Another ship has set sail out of my (rather tiny) Romantic Armada. Next chapter will be fleshing out the repercussions of this...and there will be lots of conversations. Including a hilarious one with Bucky and Pietro. And a more serious one with Bruce and Natasha. And more copious Hamilton references (still not sorry...). And, and...BUCKY AND WANDA! So excited! I can stop hinting and start writing those two being cute and adorable!  
**

 **Until then...**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


	23. Chapter 23

**I'm back! I'm back! Finally!** **Sorry about the wait, it was a combination of before-Thanksgiving Break business and procrastination...but I at last present you with THE LAST chapter of Tales from the River of Truth.**

 **I swear, this chapter is romance central. I didn't mean to make it like that, but I felt like I had some relational loose ends that I needed to tie up. Also, I once again refuse to apologize for the copious Hamilton references. Or the one Lord of the Rings reference...**

 **Also, since I've been getting a lot of guest reviews, I wanted to put out as a caveat that if you review as a guest, I have no way to respond to any question you might pose in a review. To answer my one reviewer, no, I do not have a writing schedule. I try to be a decently consistent updater but I am a college student and school always comes first.**

 **Anyway, on with the chapter!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

The cool October air swirled through the front porch in a light breeze, and Bucky's heart was thumping so much, he swore his stomach was going to come out through his mouth.

Wanda sat across from him, looking about as nervous as he felt.

Bucky clenched his jaw. _Man_ _ **up**_ _, Barnes; dammit! Take some initiative…_

"So…did Laura tell you about…y'know…?" Mentally, he cursed again. His voice sounded weak and high and like he was completely unsure of himself.

Wanda smiled and gave a brief nod. "She did. She said you talked to Clint, and…that you were panicked."

Bucky ducked his head down, blood rushing to his cheeks. "Guess I did seem pretty pathetic."

"No…I mean…I think it's sweet. But you don't…have to be afraid." Wanda reached out and gently pulled Bucky's chin up. "I don't bite."

"I…I know. Dammit, I…" he flinched at the profanity. "S-sorry. It just slipped out."

Wanda shook her head. "I have heard worse. Mostly from my own brother."

"Still. My Ma did teach me _some_ manners." Bucky slowly lifted his gaze off of the cement porch and onto Wanda's face.

She was looking at him with so much affection, he could barely stand it.

"What are you thinking?" Wanda asked quietly. "I could find out for myself…but I'd rather hear it from you willingly."

Bucky gave a half-smile and the almost-joke. "I'm thinkin' that I still don't understand…I mean, how did I get—how did _we_ get… _is_ there a 'we'?" He grimaced. "Sorry, I'm ramblin'…"

"No, it's fine." Wanda was twisting red energy between her hands again, the fluid substance glowing in the dark like a fire. "That…is what I want to know. What do you want? Do you think I'm pretty? Or do you want…something more?"

"Well _yeah_ I think you're pretty!" Bucky cried. "You're gorgeous! But that's—that's not it. Or all. I see you and I think…I'm okay. I'm safe. We can talk forever, about anything, and I never wanna quit. Or leave. And when you smile—when _I_ make you smile…I feel like I've won the world."

One of those smiles was appearing on Wanda's face now; a slow, shy, hesitant one. "Then this to you is not casual?"

"No." Bucky said, deadly earnest. "By all rights, I shouldn't even be here. I should be _dead_. I don't have time to screw around like before. I mean, I was never a bad date or nothin', but I never…it wasn't serious. _Steve_ was serious; s'why he could never get a date, besides the whole skinny thing. But me…I was the life of the party. I wanted a good time. But now?" He glanced down again. "Now I want a life. And a good time isn't something to build a life on."

"No." Wanda said quietly. "It's not."

They sat still in the chill dark for a few seconds, both hardly daring to breathe.

"And…you?" Bucky questioned at last. "Wh-what do you think?"

A tiny smirk crossed Wanda's lips. "The first time I saw you…well the first time I actually looked at you while not exhausted, I thought you were handsome. But honestly, half of the Avengers are handsome, so that is no surprise. But we could always talk, and…I liked it. You were funny and interesting and made sure Pietro and I were all right. And in Wakanda…I started to see something else. Someone who would not let their past win over them. I appreciated that, as only someone else with a past can. And now…?"

She shrugged, looking almost comically baffled. "I don't know how, but we are here."

The remark had meant nothing in particular, but at the mention of his 'past,' a sour, panicked feeling curled in Bucky's stomach. His head shot up and he spoke, with more force than intended:

"Don't you…don't you _dare_ just be doin' this 'cause you feel sorry for me." Wanda opened her mouth at once, but he cut her off. "No, I mean it! This…this isn't a pity date! 'Oh, poor Bucky Barnes, the sad sack who got mind screwed…' Don't you dare! I don't want pity!"

He stopped in a huff. Wanda's face was a blank mask.

"James."

Bucky cringed, both at the calm, even tone, and the use of his first name.

 _Well, I just screwed up…_

"I'm sor—"

Wanda placed her index finger over his lips. "Hush. And _listen_." Her voice was stern, but not unkind.

"First, don't think that pity is some terrible thing. I know, it may come as a surprise to your… _masculine_ _pride_ , but pity can be a door to greater love. Why did you become friends with Steve?"

Bucky's eyebrows shot up at the switch of topic. "Ah, uh…'cause he was a punk, and a good kid, and I was afraid he'd get himself killed 'cause he didn't seem to care if he lived or died…"

"So you felt sorry for him?"

"W-well, yeah, but that wasn't…"

"No, that was not all. But it was a beginning, yes?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, it was a beginning."

Wanda gave a triumphant nod. "'Do not scorn pity that is the gift of gentle heart.'" she quoted softly.

Bucky's heart sped up as he caught the reference. _Does she mean…?_

"'But I do not offer you my pity.'" Wanda continued. A smile grew on her face and Bucky matched it. "You don't need it. You are a loyal friend, a capable fighter, and a good man. What is there to pity? Yes, when I first found out about your past, I was horrified. Not at you, but at everything you suffered. But now, after knowing you…even if none of that had happened, even if you were still every bit of that cocky boy Steve talks about…I would still love you. D-don't you…love me?"

Wanda's tone—which had up to this point been so confident—now faltered, her eyes wide and uncertain.

And Bucky remembered that he wasn't the only one with a past.

"Yeah." he whispered, grabbing her hand. "I do. I…I love you." His voice cracked and his eyes shut almost involuntarily. With greater volume, he added, "And I _don't care_ what happened back in May, or last year, or whatever you think you're responsible for, or whatever Strucker did…I don't care." He breathed out slowly. "They're gonna sing your story for years to come, and all I'm askin' is that you let me have a cameo in it."

"I think you've been listening to too much _Hamilton_."

"Maybe. But I know you're not so crazy as that guy." he shrugged. "I'm no plaster saint, either, but…"

Wanda shook her head. "I don't want a plaster saint. I want _you_."

And at that, Bucky smiled, a huge, luminous grin that could have lit up the night all by itself.

"H-hey, uh, s-since…I mean, d'you wanna try…c-can I kiss you?"

He looked so like a little boy, half shy and half hopeful, that Wanda felt a rush of love run through her.

"M-maybe. I have never…"

"Never?" Bucky looked shocked.

"Not a romantic one."

A slow, teasing grin spread over Bucky's face, a window into the past. "I can show ya the ropes."

Wanda gave a mock frown. "Perhaps I should slap you instead."

"Ah, no, no! I'll be good, honest!" Bucky held up his arms in front of his face, but the gesture did little to block his out-of-control smile.

Wanda lifted her hands up and brought his arms down with her powers. "I will trust you on that."

Shaking a little, Bucky reached out and cupped his hand around her cheek. "J-just lean in some."

It wasn't the most artistically beautiful of kisses, but neither of them cared. It was a sign of love and commitment, and to them that was all it took to make it wonderful.

As they broke apart, Wanda gave a tiny shiver.

"Hey, you cold?" Bucky asked. "You can have…" he trailed off, realizing that they had both walked outside without jackets. "Jeez, are you okay? I can handle the cold, but you must be freezing!"

Wanda shrugged and rubbed her arms. "I don't mind cold. I am used to it as well."

Something sparked in Bucky's eyes as he gently placed his flesh arm around Wanda. She curled into his side appreciatively.

"I'm not the smartest or the strongest." he whispered. "And I can't…I can't promise everything will be easy. But I promise you, no girl of mine is ever gonna be cold, or go hungry, or have no place to sleep. I _promise_."

Wanda was almost shocked by Bucky's serious tone, until she remembered that this was a man who had lived through his country's largest period of economic turmoil.

"Thank you." she whispered. "And I…I promise that I will not leave you alone. And no one…" her voice hardened. "No one will harm you or make you afraid _ever again_. I shoved Vision through the floor of the base once…and I would do it again to anyone who tried to take your mind back."

For a moment, Bucky couldn't even speak past the lump in his throat.

"Thanks." he finally gasped out. He had seen Wanda's fighting prowess, and knew what such a promise meant.

They lapsed into silence for a long time, forgetting the cold and reveling in each other's presence. But the spell was finally broken by a yawn from Wanda.

"Wanna go in?" Bucky asked.

"I think so…I should tell Laura that everything is fine."

"Just text her." Bucky rolled his eyes. "Believe me, by tomorrow the whole hill's gonna know, and then it's only a matter of time before…" he trailed off. "I should probably talk to Pietro."

"You do not need his permission to date me." Wanda said, slightly annoyed.

"'Course not! But I guess we should make sure he's okay with it, huh?"

Wanda's annoyance dissipated. "Yes…I suppose you are right."

Bucky smirked. "I usually am."

"Mm. Not always. I believe you once thought that cryofreeze was a viable option?"

"Go easy on me for that one! I was really low…" he shook his head. "Honestly, if I say anything to Pietro, it should be a 'thank-you'. He's the one that mentioned you as a possible choice for…unconditioning."

"That's right…" Wanda looked pensive. "I had forgotten about that. You don't think…?"

"Nah, he couldn't have known. He was just trying to help. And he did."

Wanda gave another spasmodic shiver, at which point Bucky literally hauled her up and started to walk inside. Laughing, they entered the significantly warmer house.

Neither of them knew what lay ahead or what challenges they would face. But they knew that they could get through them together.

* * *

The next morning found Bucky nervously walking up the stairs to the Mansion's third floor. He had a conversation to tackle.

The object of his search was in the hallway, headphones jammed into his ears, tapping out a beat on the wall and mumbling under his breath.

" _Jedan, dva, tri; okrenite. Četiri, pet, šest…"_

Bucky walked so he was in Pietro's line of sight. "Hey, kid?"

Pietro gave a start and yanked the headphones out of his ears, hastily fiddling with his i-pod. "Sorry. Practicing. I have rehearsal Monday."

"I didn't realize your role involved banging on the wall."

Pietro rolled his eyes. "I was thinking through movement, for a song. I have to do some of the big song numbers, just not as my character. It makes the crowd look bigger if everyone is there."

Bucky nodded. "Makes sense. Uh, listen, I got…somethin' to say."

"You need me do something?"

"Nah, I…" Bucky stopped. Pietro looked entirely too smug for someone who was theoretically out of the loop.

"You want to date my sister?"

Bucky's whole face went scarlet and his eyes hit the floor.

"Hey, hey; easy!" Pietro clapped him on the shoulder. " _O Bože,_ I really did it this time." he muttered. Louder, he added, "It's alright! I'm not mad!"

Slowly, Bucky looked up from the ground. "N-not gonna go looking for a shotgun, huh?"

"And why should I? Do you plan to hurt her?"

"No!" Bucky howled, louder than he expected.

Pietro smirked. "Then why should I look for a gun? I trust Wanda. She's not stupid. If she says yes…I have no reason to say no."

"No qualms about the fact that your only remaining blood family is dating a former assassin? Y'know, someone who used to be involved with essentially a _terrorist_ _organization_?"

Pietro just shrugged. "So were we, once. People change."

Bucky was feeling simultaneously relieved and let down.

 _I was_ _ **not**_ _expecting this to be this easy…_

He had vague memories of his sisters going on dates, and remembered interrogating them about whichever boy _dared_ think he was good enough for a Barnes girl and swearing eternal vengeance if said boy so much as looked at them funny. But now, several years (decades?) older, he could see the wisdom in Pietro's approach.

Pietro trusted his sister to be smart in her decisions. And he obviously trusted Bucky just as much.

There was one other thing, though.

"You…you don't think I'm too old for her?"

Pietro let out a bark of laughter. "What are you, technically? Ninety-nine? I don't think age matters so much in this case." He cocked his head. "Seriously, how old _are_ you?"

"I was born in 1917. You do the math, Roadrunner."

"I hate math."

Bucky threw up his hands. "Why does everyone hate math?"

"Only kidding! Well, a little. But, see, it's 2016…" Pietro went slack-jawed. "Almost one hundred."

"Don't rub it in." Bucky muttered.

"For your birthday, we are buying one hundred candles for the cake."

"Imagine how big the cake would have to be to fit them all!"

"Ah, well; more to eat!"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Off topic!"

"Fine. But really, no, I don't care. She seems happy with you."

"Well, uh…thanks. I promise…" Bucky looked dead serious. "You're placing a lot of trust in me. I promise you won't regret it."

Pietro nodded. "I know I won't. I expect you to be an absolute gentleman. Anything less, and you will get shoved through the floor and twisted to pulp. And that's _before_ I do anything."

Bucky gave a solemn return nod. "Understood." He paused. "So, how did you know we…?"

Pietro smirked. "Are you forgetting I have a mind link with Wanda?"

To be honest, Bucky almost had forgotten. His eyes went wide at the thought of everything he had said last night, some of the very _private_ and _personal_ things he had said last night…

Pietro laughed. "I wasn't listening in! I was too busy trying to get Cooper and Lila to sleep! No, she told me later, in the night. Just a few things."

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief, which made Pietro laugh harder.

"Alright, alright; laugh it up _little brother_. I may be an old man, but I've still got some tricks up my sleeve."

At that, he grabbed Pietro and pinned him in a playful headlock with his metal arm.

"Arg!" Pietro struggled in the grip. "Why do you have to be so strong?!"

"Blame T'Challa's people." Bucky said unsympathetically.

In response, Pietro elbowed him in the gut and managed to twist out of the grip. "Hmph!" he said, making a show of dusting himself off. "Just be glad I like you!"

"I am." Bucky replied, this time completely sincere.

Whatever he had expected out of this conversation, for some reason it hadn't been complete acceptance. But that was what he had received.

It was another dab of salve on his still-not-completely-healed internal wounds, another voice that whispered maybe he really was ready for this.

Pietro stopped pretending to be mortally offended and gave Bucky a million-watt smile. "Congratulations. I'm a little biased, but I think you're pretty lucky."

Bucky shook his head. "I _know_ I'm pretty lucky." He corrected. A giant, slightly love-struck smile stretched over his face.

Pietro groaned. "First Steve, now you! I'm going to find Sam and be a bachelor in peace!"

"If you stay a bachelor, I'll tear off my arm and eat it!"

"I never said I was _staying_ a bachelor!"

* * *

At the Avengers' Base, Bruce was occupied looking over blueprints Tony had given him. He sat in the Common Area, head bent down and eyes focused.

Natasha was sitting across from him, messing with something on her phone, when she let out a sound of triumphant surprise.

Bruce started and looked up. "What happened?"

Natasha gave a satisfied smile. "My suspicions have been confirmed. Laura just texted me."

Bruce pushed the blueprints aside. "Oh? Who got together this time?"

"How do you know people got together?"

Bruce smirked. "You're wearing your 'matchmaker' face."

"I have a matchmaker face?" Natasha rolled her eyes and made an affected grimace.

Bruce laughed a little. "Yeah, you do. Sort of like a tiger that's just caught its prey."

"Well _I_ actually had nothing to do with this particular matchmaking. It was all on Laura. But I did have my suspicions."

"Laura seems to have done well." Bruce leaned back and folded his arms. "So who's the happy couple?"

"Bucky and Wanda."

Bruce's eyebrows went skyward, but after a moment, he nodded. "You know, I can actually see that."

"Yeah, it might seem a bit strange, but…" Natasha gave a decisive nod. "I can see it, too. I think they'll be good for each other."

"Who's next, Pietro? Or maybe Sam."

Natasha smirked. "Something tells me we won't have to worry about Pietro. And Sam…I don't know. We've talked. He's not in any kind of a rush. He sort of enjoys managing everyone in that house. And they need it!"

"Amen to that." Bruce muttered fervently. He casually fiddled with the blueprints in front of him and added, "I…I was wondering if I could ask you about something?"

Natasha leaned forward, chin in hand. "Shoot."

"I've been thinking…" Bruce trailed off again.

Natasha simply sat and let him gather his thoughts. Bruce never hesitated so much unless it was something he wanted the other party to take seriously.

"I miss medical work. Like, hands-on medical work. I miss doing practical things."

"Your whole 'doctor without borders' shtick?" Natasha queried, referring to their name for his medical work while on the run from authorities.

"Yeah, that. I miss it. I miss actually _doing_ something." Bruce paused. "I think you've affected me. I never used to be so antsy to get my hands dirty. But I've been thinking…we have it pretty good here. Patched things up with the others for the most part. It…might be nice to have a change of scenery."

"Thinking of heading anywhere specific?"

"I…I was thinking about going back to India, actually." Bruce swallowed hard. "Y-you wouldn't have to come, of course…"

Natasha thwacked his arm. "Not an option, Big Guy. Besides, I've heard India's nice this time of year."

"Well, uh, technically…no, actually, monsoon season's over by now. It's starting to get cool."

"See, told you." Natasha took his hand. "And besides, I've gotten spoiled. I'm too used to having you around."

Bruce gave a half-baked imitation of a roguish grin. It didn't turn out well, but it made Natasha laugh, so he considered it a win.

"Have I told you lately that you're the most beautiful woman in the world?" he murmured.

Natasha shrugged. "Probably, but I could stand to hear it again."

Bruce leaned forward and kissed her. " _You_ are the most beautiful woman in the world."

This was not the first time, or the first man, to tell Natasha something of this ilk. But hearing it from Bruce always made Natasha feel young and un-jaded in a way that nothing else could.

Bruce never said something he didn't mean. As someone whose life was a patchwork of lies, half-truths, and hidden secrets, Natasha appreciated that immensely.

"So…India." she said. "Got any idea where?"

Bruce sighed. "I know…several people with non-profits, from when I was there before. Actually, I got an email from someone I know in Calcutta…she heads up an organization that works to get girls out of sex trafficking. They could use a doctor, and apparently she thought of me…"

A slow, pleased smile spread across Natasha's face. "I could go for that." she said mildly, trying to kill the flood of emotion inside her.

Bruce grinned back. "I thought it might be up your alley. It'd be too crazy to try and leave before the holiday season is over, but maybe sometime in January…?"

"Sounds fine to me." Natasha replied. "It'll be nice to really see you at work, Doctor."

Bruce's smile grew. For all his love of the theoretical and groundbreaking, he enjoyed assisting people in actually practical ways.

"And maybe at some point I'll make an honest woman out of you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha snorted. "It might take a stronger force than you to make me _honest_. Spy habits die hard."

"Oh, c'mon…you know what I mean."

Natasha gave a tiny nod. "Yeah…I know what you mean." she said. Her voice also dropped lower, almost cracking. "Are you sure about that?"

Bruce shrugged. "What can I say? I'm spoiled—I've gotten used to having _you_ around. I'd…like it to stay that way. As long as you don't care…I don't want you to feel trapped."

"Trapped is the last thing I feel with you." Natasha said honestly. Her own words from almost two years ago came flooding back:

 _"_ _Fact is, he's not like anybody I've ever known. All my friends are fighters, and here comes this guy who spends his life avoiding a fight because he knows he'll win."_

"Should we fight it?" Natasha mused. "Or should we run with it?"

"Run with it, right?" Bruce echoed. "I mean, unless running with it ends horribly, and then…"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Just kiss me, dork."

Bruce obliged, feeling very, very satisfied.

 _Red and green…I always liked Christmas colors…_

* * *

Tony knew that he was going to be sick.

He fingered the slick, small object hidden in his pocket and took deep breaths as he hid in the hallway to the Common Area.

Pepper was in there, typing something on her laptop.

For a moment, Tony zoned out, focusing on the way the sunlight hit her hair and how she furrowed her brow when she was concentrating…

 _No! Bad Tony!_ he jerked himself out of fantasy. _Back to the mission, Stark. And don't screw this up, or you'll never have another chance…_

Blessedly, Rhodey's words from earlier intruded on his mental self-flagellation.

 _You two have been together in some form or another for way too long, Tony. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather see you with. Just keep it real and you'll be fine._

 _Just keep it real, and you'll be fine…_

Tony breathed in and out, in and out.

 _Stupid emotions…stupid words…_

 _"_ _So you tell me the numbers and I'll tell you the words. And we'll both get better."_

Tony almost started in shock, remembering what Christy had said to him _ages_ ago.

The memory of those innocent words gave him courage.

 _Not sure how much better at words I've gotten, kid, but it's not your fault…here goes nothin'…_

With quick, purposeful strides, he walked into the room. Pepper looked up immediately.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Uh, y-yeah, yeah, fine; completely fine. Why?" Tony babbled.

Pepper stood up and wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead. "You're melting." she said dryly.

"Oh…yeah." Tony laughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, about that…?"

"Yes…"

Tony swallowed hard. "I have something to ask."

Pepper frowned. "Tony, you're making me nervous."

"Don't be." Tony said bluntly. "I haven't screwed up this time." _Yet…_ "I, uh, r-remember when you came back and you said that I needed to figure out how much I was willing to put into our relationship?"

The words came out in one breathless rush. Pepper nodded.

"I remember, Tony. Did you make a decision?"

Tony swallowed hard again. "Y-yeah. I decided, uh, I wanted to put in th-this much effort."

And without further ado, Tony Stark drew out the tiny, metal object from his pocket, and got down on one knee.

"Virginia Potts…Pepper…" Tony paused. "I am the world's biggest screw-up. I've done so many stupid things and said so many stupid things, but for some strange reason, you still care about me. You've seen me at my absolute lowest and haven't run screaming—which, honestly, I don't know how you manage. You basically run Stark Industries single-handedly but you still have time t-to drop everything when one of my—one of _our_ friends needs something. You're an amazing woman and you honestly deserve a lot better than me…so I'm gonna try to be that someone." Tony closed his eyes and stretched his hands up. "Pep…will you marry me?"

He heard a gasp, and felt cool hands grasp his own sweating ones. When he dared to open his eyes, Pepper was kneeling on the ground in front of him.

"Yes." she whispered. "But I'm not marrying Tony Stark the Hot Mess. I'm marrying Tony Stark," she tapped the spot where his arc reactor used to be, "who has a heart."

Tony ducked his head. "I…I made the ring out of one of the old arc reactors. M-melted it down, and…"

"Oh, Tony!"

"Figured it was a better gift than anything I could dig up in a store."

And that, more than anything, convinced Pepper that this Tony Stark was worlds away from the selfish, entitled playboy she'd known so long ago.

This was a man who had learned there were truly some things that money could never buy.

For a few minutes, they just stayed on the floor, minds whirling with happiness (and Tony's with relief).

"Should we tell the others?" Pepper whispered finally.

Tony nodded. "Uh…yeah. L-lets." He kissed her on the mouth. "Mrs. Virginia Stark. I like the sound of that. O-or you can, uh, not…"

Pepper laughed. "I don't know. I might go for a hyphen."

"Mrs. Stark-Potts. Okay. Th-that works. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, right?"

"My, aren't you poetic this afternoon?" Pepper said, amused.

Tony smirked. "I am drunk on love and success, and I don't care who knows it!"

Pepper gave his arm a light punch. "Come on, lover boy. Rhodey's probably dying to know this worked out. You did go to him for help, right?"

"Uh— _yeah_. Obviously. And Vision knows, too…actually, everyone living here knows."

"You do realize we now have to plan a wedding?"

"Nothing too extravagant."

Pepper stopped walking and _stared_. "Am I hearing right? _Tony Stark_ is saying 'not too extravagant'?"

Tony shrugged. Once, he might have wanted to make this the biggest affair in New York. But now…

"I guess you can say I've had an eight-year crash course on reality." he said. "I just want wedding guests that actually give a damn about us as people."

Pepper nodded. "That's fair."

Truthfully, it was more like _incredible_ , but she didn't say anything.

It was enough to know that the man she truly loved was really starting to grow up. And she couldn't be more proud.

And, as everyone congratulated them a few minutes later, she couldn't help but think that together, there was nothing she and Tony couldn't accomplish.

Even marriage.

* * *

 _"_ _I am not throwin' away my shot! I am not throwin' away my shot! Ay, yo, I'm just like my country, I'm young, scrappy, and hungry, and I'm not throwin' away my shot!"_

Sam, who was sitting in the living room attempting to write a paper, suddenly picked up his laptop in a huff. The loud sound of Broadway showstopper music filtered down the stairs, along with the voices of at least two girls.

Christy had friends over this weekend. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but when their decision to do karaoke coincided with a time that Sam had a paper due…

"I can't concentrate!" he cried, sounding more than a little stressed.

Steve sighed and got up. "I'll tell them to tone it down."

"Much obliged." Sam muttered. "I'm almost done, just got about two more pages to write. Maybe see if they'll take the noise over Clint's way."

"Will do." Steve replied, climbing the stairs. He reached Christy's room and gently twisted the doorknob.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted him. Christy was sprawl-sitting on her bed next to Tally, and Sienna was sitting in front of Christy's nightstand. Christy and Tally were singing, but Sienna was steadfastly working on a pencil sketch, despite the chaos.

"Hey, girls?" Steve called.

Christy shut the music off. "What's up, Dad?"

"Sam's trying to write a paper and he sort of hinted that I should kick you three down the hill to Clint's, unless you can be quieter."

"Sorry…" Christy mumbled.

"Sorry, Christy's loud." Tally said. "We'll be quieter."

"I'm not loud!" Christy protested, at a volume that belied her statement.

"Well, if you're going to sing, try and pick something that _isn't_ "My Shot". Or anything loud." Steve continued. While two of the three girls tried to come to a conclusion based on that criteria, he leaned over and caught a glimpse of Sienna's drawing.

"You trying to draw the view from out that window?" he asked, gesturing to the window on the far side of the bed.

Sienna nodded, moving to hide the image on reflex. "Yes. It looks pretty. I like it out here."

Steve smiled. "Well, you and Tally are both welcome any time it works out. Your drawing looks good, by the way. Christy said something about you winning a contest?"

Sienna looked down shyly, her dark hair falling in front of her face like a curtain. "Yeah, last spring. I won best colored pencil sketch. I think I like drawing with pencils better than painting. You can control a pencil better."

"Definitely. I always preferred sketches, myself. 'Course, pencils were also cheaper a lot of times…" He shrugged. "If these two get too loud, come downstairs, okay? Artists gotta stick together."

Sienna giggled. "Okay, Mr. Steve. But I think I'll just make them behave."

"We are _not_ doing "It's Quiet Uptown," that song is too sad!" Christy said to Tally, crossing her arms for effect.

Tally rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well _pick one_ already! Or we just stop and go play tag or something with your cousins—or whatever they are."

"Cousins." Christy muttered distractedly, scrolling through the playlist of Hamilton songs.

"If I go now, do you promise to keep it down?" Steve asked, walking towards the door.

"Promise!" Christy said. The other girls nodded.

"Alright." Steve left the room.

Sienna looked up from her sketch. "Just pick one of the romantic ones, those are usually quieter."

"Yeah, you're right…"

"Speaking of romance, how's it going with your dad and that lady?" Tally asked.

"It's going good. I like Sharon, she's really nice and, uh…competent. Kinda like you." Christy said. "I wouldn't be upset if she married Dad. Oh! And did I tell you that Uncle Tony _finally_ proposed to Aunt Pepper?"

"No, but I can't keep your family straight anyway, so that doesn't mean a ton." Tally replied. "But good for them!"

Christy rolled her eyes. "For context: they have literally been on-and-off dating for something like…six years? I think? Longer than I've been adopted. I think Uncle Tony's kind of scared of commitment. Or he used to be, anyway. And then of course Uncle Bucky and Wanda…"

 _That_ had been a bit of a shock to come back to, after being away for the weekend. But after a little time to get used to the idea, Christy had been over the moon with enthusiasm. She absolutely adored Bucky and saw Wanda as a substitute mom or older sister, so the thought of them together was great.

"They're cute together." Sienna said. "She looks really happy and he looks like he got a surprise present."

"I don't think he thought she'd say yes." Christy said quietly. "He's kinda shy about weird things…" Suddenly, a tiny spark of madness appeared in Christy's eyes.

Sienna caught the look. "Oh, no, what are you planning this time?" she groaned.

Christy grinned. "I have a fantastic idea."

"This will end badly." Tally predicted.

"No! Just listen..."

* * *

Wanda leaned back against the deck chair and let out a long sigh. "I am never moving _ever_ again."

Bucky, sitting in the chair beside her, threw back his head and laughed. "Haven't you moved before?"

"Yes, but it usually involved a small bag with three days' worth of clothes and a toothbrush. Not an entire bed and dresser and…everything." She huffed. "I've gotten spoiled, living here."

"Spoiled is as spoiled does." Bucky quoted softly. "Having nice things doesn't make you a bad person."

"Oh, I know…it's just a big change."

"Well, it would have had to happen sooner or later, even without…" Bucky gestured vaguely. "Us."

Wanda nodded. "Laura and Clint wanted us in the house the minute we signed the adoption papers. Unfortunately, they only have one spare room. But Pietro was fine with it, so I don't mind living there without him."

"Yeah, and they're expanding the house once it's not so freezing cold, right? So Pietro could move in, too, come summer."

"Yes. Then it will _really_ be crazy!"

Suddenly, the soft crooning of music sounded somewhere above their heads. Both looked up to find a very unusual sight.

A small wicker basket (probably belonging to the Bartons) with a handle was being lowered down from an upstairs window via a piece of rope. Music poured out from it, indicating an i-pod or other electronic source within.

 _"_ _Oooh…I do, I do, I do, I doooo…hey! Oooh…I do, I do, I do, I dooo…"_

Bucky let out a low growl, recognizing the music's origin source. "I swear to God, are they _serenading_ us?"

Sure enough, three small faces peeked over the windowsill, eyes fixed on the couple bellow.

Wanda laughed. "Did you think we needed music?" she called up.

"Christy's idea!" Came Sienna's voice.

"Don't blame me!" Christy's cry was next.

"Well it technically _was_ …" That was Tally, voice of reality as normal.

 _"_ _I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight, we were at a revel with some rebels on a hot night…"_

"Yeah, but I wanted to play "That Would Be Enough," but you said it was too awkward 'cause they're not actually married!"

Wanda smiled, having a sneaking suspicion why Christy would have chosen the other song to encapsulate the two of them.

 _"_ _Will you relish being a poor man's wife, unable to provide for your life?" "I relish being_ _ **your**_ _wife…"_

"Okay, okay…" Bucky tried to sound stern and eventually gave up. "Thank you for the serenading." He smiled. "But you three are wanted down the hill. I think Laura made food."

"Food is good!" Tally called back.

"We'll be down in a second!" Christy added.

The scuffling sound of running feet indicated that the statement was being carried out.

"Hey, uh…" Bucky glanced down, sounding nervous. "I…I got somethin' for ya."

Wanda frowned. "You didn't have to…"

"I know, I know; you don't like getting drowned in gifts. But I saw it in town the other day and I just…it fit you so much. Please say you'll take it?"

"Oh, of course I'll take it! I suppose a part of me is still not used to gifts. What is it?"

Bucky reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a small jewelry box. "Guess I could wait till Christmas, but…I've waited on a lot of things in life. I don't wanna now."

Wanda took the box and opened it, revealing a bronze locket with a rose engraved on it.

"You shouldn't have…" the words came out involuntarily.

Bucky shrugged. "I wanted to."

Wanda fingered the metal chain, and then carefully put it around her neck.

"I love it." she whispered.

Bucky grinned, hard. "Thought so. I saw it and it looked so…you. Glad you like it."

"Now time for your present."

"My what?" Bucky looked around. "Where is it?"

Wanda smiled and pushed herself closer to him. "Right here. Just lean in…"

Understanding, Bucky obeyed.

As far as he was concerned, a kiss for a necklace was a _perfectly_ satisfactory trade-off.

* * *

"Are you really sure we ought to be giving them all sugar?" Sam asked, gesturing to the five kids and one toddler that were busily making s'mores. Everyone was enjoying a bonfire night in the Barton's backyard.

Steve shrugged. "Well…the three I'm responsible for probably weren't going to sleep much anyway, so I'm fine. Clint?"

Clint rolled his eyes, the gesture almost lost in the dim firelight. "They'll sleep. They'll get wound up for a little while and then crash. 'Especially Lila. Cooper never gets very crazy to begin with, and Nathaniel won't get too much."

"Fair enough." Steve almost wished for his sketchbook, even though he knew the lighting was entirely bad for drawing. But the scene around him was one that he would definitely be committing to memory.

Pietro, Bucky, and Wanda were carrying on some animated discussion while Laura supervised s'more preparations. Him, Sam, and Clint sat a little ways removed from the chaos, but not so much that they couldn't feel the fire's warmth.

"This beats hiding out in some random safe house, huh?" Sam said, picking up on Steve's mood.

"Technically you guys are hiding out…" Clint said.

"Nah, not really." Steve stared into the fire's hypnotizing glow. "For now, we're home. This isn't hiding out. I'm ready for action any time, but…now I know where I'm coming back to when the dust clears."

Clint nodded. "It's a good feeling. Enjoy it."

"I intend to. After the last six months, I _definitely_ intend to."

It had been a long road to get all of them here, full of danger and darkness and injury (not all of it physical).

But now…it felt like they could all breathe. Life was moving on.

Steve had no idea what the next year would hold. He was still sorting out his relationship with Sharon and trying every day to make the right decisions about Christy, never mind the fact that his oldest friend and someone he loved like a sister were now _dating_ …

Yes, things were still crazy. But it was a good sort of crazy.

He had taken his stand by the riverside, and somehow, everything had come out all right.

* * *

 **Well...that's all folks! And to quote the immortal (not really) words of "The Court Jester": "What starts like a scary tale ends like a fairy tale...and life couldn't possibly better be!"**

 **A few quick notes:**

 **Hamilton Songs Quoted: "My Shot," "Helpless," and "That Would Be Enough" (all of which I LOVE).**

 **"Sokovian" Translations:**

 ** _"Jedan, dva, tri; okrenite. Četiri, pet, šest…"- "One, two, three; now turn. Four, five, six..."  
_**

 ** _"O_** _ **Bože** "- **"Oh, God."**  
_

 **Now, on to the question of Where Do We Go From Here:  
**

 **As of now, I don't have any more long stories planned. I do have several one-shot ideas, but they will probably be standalone and not compiled like some of my earlier ones. I also really want to write some sort of Christmas Anthology during December, with anecdotes that span all throughout my 'Verse. My upcoming oneshots will be set further back in my 'Verse as well. I have some ideas that I've wanted to write for a long time now, so here's hoping they finally see (virtual) paper.**

 **As always, if you have anything specific you want to see, tell me in a review, or PM me.**

 **Be on the lookout for any new postings; the Christmas Anthology (tentatively titled "Christmas is Coming") will probably come first (its length will be anyone's guess). In the meantime...  
**

 **Reviews are wonderful things...**


End file.
